


The Prototype of Grand Templar and Mentor Assassin

by YunaBlaze



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Prototype (Video Games)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Family Bonding, Gen, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:10:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13382763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YunaBlaze/pseuds/YunaBlaze
Summary: When Alexander J. Mercer dropped the nuclear bomb in the ocean, he did not expect to be sent back in time to 18th century where the Revolution would soon begin, and got into the secret war between Assassins and Templars. The worst part was that the two men he came to care were at each other's throat, both because of personal and duty matters. And he was stuck between them...*A work from my Fanfiction account.*





	1. 00 - Prologue

**Prologue**

  

Alexander J. Mercer was feeling hesitation for the first time since he had woke up in Gentek Headquarters’ morgue. He was lost when he first came back to life, his memories were blank and, in his fears, he barely noticed the monstrous changes that had happened to him. His body, mind and soul were entirely made of a virus called Blacklight, a creation of his and the cause of the destruction over Manhattan. He became known as the Prototype, Zeus.

 

Alex looked at the transparent reflection of his on the helicopter’s glass and truly studied himself for the first time. He wore three layers of clothes: a button-up white shirt, a plain grey hoodie, and a black leather jacket with a red tribal design on the back. His lower body was covered by a plain blue jeans and black shoes. His clothes covered nearly every inch of his body, except his face and hands, those were the only parts of him that showed he was human, a fake cover of humanity. Especially his piercing light blue eyes tainted with a sickly grey colour that couldn’t be overshadowed by the hood. Everything about him was fake. It was created by the Blacklight virus, and even his identity was stolen from the deceased scientist and creator of this virus, the real Alexander J. Mercer, who was the Head of Gentek Research Project. Yet, Dr. Mercer’s sister was real to him, she cared for him despite seeing the monster he was. Now Dana Mercer laid in a coma at a St. Paul Hospital under the care of Dr. Bradley Ragland, because he had released Elizabeth Greene, the host of the Redlight virus from which Blacklight was derived from.

 

He was a virus. He had taken everything from the deceased doctor, such as name, body, memories and family. There was nothing that truly belonged to him, only the carnage and gore he left behind over the streets of Manhattan and the pain screams he could still hear of the victims he had consumed to either accumulate biomass or infiltrate into Blackwatch’s army bases. His hunt for the truth of what had happened to him led him to a horrifying revelation. He, or his predecessor Dr. Mercer, had unleashed the Blacklight virus at Penn Station and brought Hell over Manhattan for three long weeks. He found the truth, but he did not like it.

 

Here he was, in a helicopter, flying over the vast Atlantic Ocean with an armed nuclear warhead that was supposed to erase New York’s infection. He dropped the bomb into the vast sea after he deemed the explosion wasn’t near any populated area and turned tail to leave, but he was still within the blast radius when the nuclear bomb detonated.

 

The last thought in his mind was. _Damn._

And the last thing he felt was pain and fear as a bright white light covered his vision.

 

***

 

The first thing the virus felt, after devouring a small bird, was its disgust of water, its formless shape crawled slowly out of the water, still trying to reconstruct its human form, but the avian provided very little biomass for a full recovery, so the mass began slipping through sand, earth and grass as it hunted for a creature’s biomass. The virus found one. A hunter who had became the hunted, the virus jumped on the man and started consuming his entire body until, Alex Mercer’s body was all that remained.

 

Mercer kept his eyes closed as memories and knowledge was being branded within his mind until the very last second of the victim’s life faded away. His body’s biomass began shifting in red and black tendrils until Mercer was gone and replaced by the hunter he had consumed. Pale skin replaced by tanned skin, hair became long and braided on one side, modern clothes replaced by Native American clothing, and weapons and accessories materialized. The transformation was completed.

  

‘ _Ratonhnhaké:ton_ ,’ someone called out in Mohawk from behind him. Mercer inwardly smirked as he turned to greet the person with his face void of emotion.


	2. 01 - Put up a Good Show

**Put up a Good Show**

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton, or Alex Mercer, was having both a fun and boring life. He was at first surprised to discover that he had somehow time traveled to the 18th century, 1752 to be more precise, and the man he had consumed to regenerate his body was a Kanien'kehá:ka, commonly known as a Mohawk in his time, lived in the village of Kanatahséton located in Mohawk Valley. Thankfully, one of his consumed victims was actually an American Revolution War fan, the knowledge helped him, and he was slowly preparing to move out of New England before the war began.

 

For two years, he was able to pass for Ratonhnhaké:ton in front of most of the villagers, even Ratonhnhaké:ton’s friends, but he wasn’t able to hide from two women. Somehow, the two women, with no advanced technology of whatsoever, had seen through his disguise. One treated him well enough that he almost thought he was seeing an aged Dana who was trying to find a pacifistic way to resolve things. The other simply treated him as if he didn’t exist or kept her distance from him. They were respectively the clan mother, Oiá:ner, and Kaniehtí:io, or Ziio, Ratonhnhaké:ton’s supposed-to-be fiancée.

 

‘ _Ratonhnhaké:ton_ ,’ the clan mother called out as she gestured for him to come closer. Usually, Mercer would have just greeted her and went on with his day, or just talk to her and learn things in a normal _human_ pace. Still he respected the old woman well enough to listen to her. ‘ _Kaniehtí:io and some of our people got captured._ ’

 

Alex almost groaned out loud. The other thing Oiá:ner reminded him of Dana was that she would boss him around or send him to do some chores, like hunting or helping someone. He wondered why he hadn’t broke someone in half since he had arrived. After all, carnage seemed to be the only thing he was good at. Then again, this was colonial time, there was nothing that could keep up with him and neither was there some kind of entertainment to distract him. Helping people at least passed time and it gave him an excuse to leave the village. Alex nearly scoffed as he remembered something his sister had told him before she got kidnapped. Helping others was good for the soul.

 

‘ _Don’t worry. I will find them and bring them back_ ,’ Alex answered as he started heading towards the general direction where Boston was located, when he was far enough from the villager where he was sure no one would accidentally stumble upon him, he quickly transformed himself back to his old self.

 

With his enhanced speed, he should make it to Boston before Ziio’s captors even arrived, giving him more than enough time to set an ambush. He quickly changed into one of the Colonist forms he had consumed when he had first visited Boston. Thankfully, the streets were mostly emptied because of the rain, so it didn’t require much effort to pretend to be one of the civilians in this rotten city. He first went to the dock to retrieve some of the necessary _materials_ he would need for the upcoming ambush.

 

Though it was a bit difficult to transfer said material to the main street where the ambush would take place. It was not because they were heavy, Alex could easily pull a military tank up and throw it to nearby enemies without a sweat. The problem he had was that they wouldn’t stop barking like there was no tomorrow.

 

Dragging the dogs towards closer to the ambush site, he turned his hands into dozens of tendrils and inserted something he had nicknamed as a “bio-bomb” into the animals as they tried to claw out of his hold. When the loud sounds of people marching got closer, he released the infected hounds that ran out of the dark alley to escape the monster, but when they reached the middle of the street, where Redcoat soldiers were about to just walk pass them, red and black tendrils consumed their body, and even larger tendrils emerged from the moving masses that were once the animals. Some of the soldiers were praying to God as they watched in fear as the tendrils burst out in 360 degree and grabbing hold of the people, ground and stone walls before the attached objects were pulled towards the center and exploded. Panic and yells rang in the air as the remaining Redcoats, screaming their head off, ran away from the terrible sight of blood and pieces of flesh.

 

When the last of the Redcoats left, Alex moved in as Ratonhnhaké:ton and greeted Ziio who gave him a look that asked him if it was really necessary for him to do this. The virus shrugged at the look as he broke the lock and cut the rope that bound Ziio’s hands. The Native woman rubbed them lightly as she said in her mother tongue, ‘ _There are still some of our people trapped at the Southgate Fort by the man named Silas, a slaver._ ’

 

Both Natives turned and continued down the road, heading towards the Southgate Fort, oblivious to the eyes that were following them.

 

***

  

One of the other things Mercer did to get rid of his boredom was going into the city and caused all sort of trouble, nothing that would attract too many attention, like ripping someone to pieces or spilling someone’s organs out. He would then set a challenge to himself, like beating 20 guys in two minutes or having an entire squad of Redcoats chasing him and he needed to hide without using his shape shift ability or super speed to escape. Restriction and stealth were never his forte, so he supposed one day that he should start training himself to get better. Alex had felt weak back then when his powers were sealed, because of a biological parasite Gentek created to deal with him, so at that moment he refused to feel that again. Stealth would be useful if he ever found a job in assassination when he left America, and it would probably help him lay low for a while.

 

Alex was grinning madly as he and Ziio reached the fort, hiding under the cover of bushes, observing and remembering the patterns of each soldier’s march. _Should I set the game for timing? No, no, no, they might use the prisoners. Perhaps a stealthy approach?_

 

Boredom could really drive people crazy, especially a Prototype. 

 

After ten minutes of non-blinking observation, Ziio asked, ‘ _Why haven’t you left yet?_ ’

 

Alex paused in his mental challenge planning and turned his attention on the Native woman who was still spying on the British. The virus was uncertain how to answer that. He had money, enough to travel to some place else. He was free and he was unknown. Alex closed his eyes as if it would help him find a clear answer to Ziio’s question. In truth, he knew why he wanted to stay and why he did not want to stay. What he knew was that the village and Boston were the only two places his Mohawk victim had knowledge about, but outside of those two areas, he knew nothing of this world. Staying in Mohawk Valley felt safe, much like the safe house Dana had shown him, it was a place where he could return to, but that apartment was gone along with its safety. Mohawk Valley would follow soon when the Revolution began. He could leave, but he would just wander aimlessly in this foreign world. He had no faith in himself, no belief or trust on anything. It might be a soul-searching journey one day.

  

‘ _Because I have no where else to go_ ,’ Alex finally answered, truthfully for once. Before he stood up and held a hand out. ‘ _Stay here. I’ll go get everyone out._ ’

 

He quickly left the Native behind and crept into one of the shadowed spots where he shifted his clothing to that of a Redcoat and walked into the fort, walking pass soldiers or leaning against some stack-up boxes when a small squad passed, hiding in plain site. He spotted three locations where the prisoners were held, though he was frowning heavily when he saw three of the captured Natives were stashed on a boat surrounded by TWICE-BE-DAMNED WATER. Despite the fact that his body was pretty much invulnerable against everything, Dr. Mercer’s hydrophobia was imbedded in his mind to the point that whenever his head was under water, he would instinctively jumped out of it.

  

Alex shook his head lightly, hoping to get rid of the fear creeping in the back of his mind, as he went to release the prisoners on the land before getting on the boat. He would have consumed the unlucky guards that were looking after the prisoners, but he did not think it was worth to announce to the entire New England that he was a monster that could devour its preys without leaving bones behind. When he turned to head towards the dread ship, he saw someone else freeing the hostages. Alex ignored the man for now, because he had to get the Natives out of here before Silas noticed anything.

 

By getting out, he meant going with a huge bang. Alex cringed slightly when he heard Silas shouted, ‘An hour of quiet was all I asked. Instead I’m awakened not ten minutes later by this cacophonous madness! I expect an explanation – and it had best be good!’

  

When the high-ranking officer walked towards the ledge to see what caused the commotion, Alex’s lips stretched into a feral smirk as he watched the man shouting at his soldiers about his _merchandises_ being set free. While he knew that he was going to fight those pawns around the king with his axe and arrows instead of his claws and blade, Alex couldn’t help but feel his desire for slaughter grow. It had been too long since he had painted something in blood.

 

While Ziio came and led her people to battle, Alex already dashed towards the squad that was preparing to fire at them and killed them brutally.

 

***

  

Haytham Kenway had been a killer since he was ten. As a Templar, he had seen wars and battles that could break even the sanest man in the world. His life was made of death of his allies and enemies. He killed his opponents quickly and effectively, and he never harmed any innocent or bystander who had accidentally witnessed his kill, much like the Assassins and their creed.

  

Apparently, New World showed him that he hadn’t seen everything _yet_. He had gathered the allies Reginald Birch had appointed to him and they would set out to find the precursor’s storehouse and retrieve the artefacts within it. William Johnson told him that the markings on the precursor key were similar to that of the Mohawk tribe. Thomas Hickey suggested that they saved some of the Native American slaves to earn to trust. Haytham planned to infiltrate the Southgate Fort by ambushing a convoy of new slaves, but someone had beaten them to it and released the prisoners. The man had left a gory scene behind, one that unsettled his companions and him.

  

Now Haytham saw the man again, he couldn’t help but study him, he was like many of the Natives, but unlike the others, he fought like a rabid animal, there were no grace or precision in his strikes, there was only the desire to crush his enemies. The Templar quickly turned his attention to assassinate Silas and apparently, the Native berserker was also heading for the leader of this fort. The action both unnerved and angered him.

  

Kenway never had anyone challenge him and even those who did prove to be a weaker adversary. This man was no different.

 

While he started climbing his way up to Silas’ position, the Native simply barged through the Redcoats, slicing and cutting the obstacles away as if they were nothing more than high grass. Haytham doubled his effort to reach his target when the man reached the upper level, he reached the top, pulling out his pistol, and fired at the slaver’s stomach just as a tomahawk cut through the air and imbedded in shoulder of the man. Haytham looked back at where the weapon was thrown from and spotted the Native warrior who was staring at him. The British blinked in surprise to see the man’s eyes were grey blue instead brown like many of the Indians.

 

Both men stared at each other for a minute before someone yelled, ‘ _Ratonhnhaké:ton!_ ’

  

The man, Ratonhnhaké:ton, broke eye contact to look at the woman he came with, she was gesturing to the gate. Ratonhnhaké:ton hesitated, staring back and forth between him and her, then he relaxed and stepped back, but his gaze were still very predatory. The Native then jumped over the stone stairways to join his gathering kin as the woman pushed him to help an injured comerade. Haytham removed his tricorn hat and leaned against edge to study the two Native Americans who, with no extra man power or weapons, had successfully stormed an entire fort effortlessly and without any of their people dying in the process.

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton seemed to notice his stare and turned around to glare at him, surprising Haytham enough that he immediately turned his gaze to the woman next to him. Haytham didn’t know why, but he couldn’t but be facinated by the foreigner. The man pushed him to reach his target faster, challenging him and he somehow managed to keep up with him, something no one had been able to. A small part of his mind whispered. _Both a dangerous and exotic creature._

 

The British paled slightly at the last thought and instantly focused his entire attention on the woman beside Ratonhnhaké:ton. Haytham never once questioned whether he liked men or women, seeing that he spent his entire life seeking vengerance on those who had tore his family apart and looking for his sister, Jennifer Scott Kenway, and devoting himself to the Order’s cause. His frown deepened when he remembered Jenny teasing him about only liking beautiful things. Sure, he liked beautiful things, such as weapons, a bit on clothings, and tricorn hats, but he did not think his interest in pretty things went over love interest too.

 

He shivered slightly as he glanced back at the Native man, who was holding his injured brethan up, glared him with more force than before, he refocused on the female who was now giving him a small smile which he returned before the woman’s face was blank once more and left with Ratonhnhaké:ton trailing behind.

 

Charles Lee came over then and asked, ‘What happens now?’

 

‘We wait,’ Haytham answered. Voice professional and serious, his nervousness over the foreigner’s gaze evaporated. ‘Though not for very long, I suspect...’

 

***

 

_It was after weeks of patient waiting that I see that man again. It was also when my feelings turned into a storm. It was one that I could not calm. One that I knew would later affect my duties..._


	3. 02 - My Hunt My Prey

**My Hunt My Prey**

 

Alex yawned and stretched slightly as he stared at the never ending snowy forest. It was weeks with no action and boring hunts, he still did not understand why he had to come to begin with, because more than half of the animals in the forest knew he was the biggest and meanest hunter, they either all gave him space or ran away from him like a plague. Alex kept a close watch around the area, while Ziio was going out to set some traps before they both lured some of the animals into them. Actually, he would be the only one doing the “lure” part of the plan.

 

Suddenly a gunshot rang in the air, Alex froze on his spot as he focused his senses to his surrounding, hearing laboured breathing and heavy footing over the snow, and small and light footing over wood. Someone was chasing Ziio. Alex immediately bolted after the direction where the sound came, the snow did not hider him the slightest. Then he spotted some shadows running around him. The wolves were the only creatures that seemed to dare hunting his preys. Probably, because of their number being bigger and they could easily snatch something while he was preoccupied.

 

‘You try my patience, woman!’

 

Alex frowned when he heard the voice. He was not pleased with the way the man spoke to his friend. Well, Ziio still treated him the cold shoulder. She had accepted the bit that he was wearing her fiancé’s face, but she still disliked his methods of _solving_ things. The virus let out a growl as he spotted the man chasing Ziio, who was out of reach from the trees, and tackled the man into the snow. His hand gripping the knife tightly enough that he left a handprint on it and their face were only a few small inches from each other. He faltered slightly as he recognized the man who had saved the last batch of slaves from the boat.

 

He would have started questioning the man on why he was here, but he heard the soft growl of a wolf and released the man in a second before the canine creature flew passed, both men stood immediately as they turned to face the wolves that had them surrounded, Alex told Ziio to stay in the trees as one the wolves charged towards, he caught it in its mid-air jump and stabbed it in the head, the British did the same, but with a hidden blade. When another pair of wolves fell in a similar manner, the rest of the pack became more cautious as they continued observing them while turning in circle, looking for an opening for them to catch one of them off guard.

 

The Blacklight virus wasn’t worried, because he knew from experience already that wolves would retreat if they deemed their target to be too dangerous or another pack had found food for them. At that moment a long howl was sounded in the cold air as the pack looked at the source of the noise and ran towards the direction, only one remained long enough to snarl at him before joining its group.

 

The moment the wolves disappeared from view, Alex and Haytham returned to previous position, with Alex on top and one hand wrapped tightly the British man’s neck, the other one held the blade back and readied to strike, as he demanded, ‘What do you want?’

 

The man held out both hand in surrender as he said with a pace that was reserved for the deaf, ‘Me. Haytham. I come. In peace.’

 

Alex felt the strange urge to punch the man for speaking like that, but he was wearing Ratonhnhaké:tone’s skin, so he concluded that the British didn’t know that both he and Ziio understood every word he said without speaking in such a slow pace. Speaking which, Ziio jumped down and spoke with the same tone Haytham did before, but dripped with sarcasm in it, ‘Why. Are. You. Speaking. So. Slow.’

 

Haytham sighed tiredly, though Alex was certain that it was also out of embarrassment, before he muttered, ‘Sorry.’

 

Alex relaxed his hand slightly as he repeated, ‘I ask again. What do you want?’

 

‘Well, both of your names, for one, but is it possible to discuss this with both of us standing?’ said Haytham, moving his free hand between them and gesturing at their awkward position.

 

Alex nodded, but his hand tightened for second as a warning that if he dared to do something suspicious, he would not hesitate to end his life. Both of them stood, Haytham dusting off the snow while Ziio started, ‘I’m Kaniehtí:io.’

 

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Haytham greeted properly. ‘Godz-zio?’

 

‘Just called me Ziio,’ Kaniehtí:io said flatly after hearing the stumbling and pauses in her name.

 

‘Oiio?’ the British pronounced.

 

‘Ziio,’ the Native woman corrected harshly.

 

The British cringed a bit at her sharp tone, but he repeated the name again and this time he got the sound right. Haytham glanced at him, Alex smirked slightly at his hesitation in learning his name, but the virus was _slightly_ merciful today. Instead of using his Native name, he said, ‘You can call me Zeus. You won’t be able to even pronounce my full name.’

 

‘Zeus?’ Haytham repeated the name incredulously, uncertain whether it was a joke or not.

 

‘Zeus,’ Alex repeated with all the seriousness he could muster.

 

‘Alright, Zeus, it is then.’ The man looked between surprise and relief.

 

Ziio directed them back to the matter at hand. ‘Now tell us why it is you’re here.’

 

The British pulled out a circular necklace or amulet of sort and showed to them. While Kaniehtí:io took the item from the man’s fingers and demanded where he got it. Alex studied the serpent that was biting its own tail on the amulet, searching through the Native hunter’s memories that shown him a painted cavern where a wall that was most certainly not made out of stone laid with pictograph images all over it. The wall told the story of a goddess’ journey. The virus had gotten more suspicious of the reason why the British helped them, from what he noticed in his victim’s memories, the wall was most certainly manmade, but the pictogram on it was unknown to him or to his collective knowledge, they were neither in cuneiform, hieroglyphic or prehistoric. Alex decided that before he left America, he would go and study this wall thoroughly.

 

Alex was so deep in his thought that he failed to notice Ziio telling the man to head for the hill that overlooked Concord until she was leaving with the amulet in hand. The virus shook his head tiredly as he thought humourlessly. _Well, at least we’ll be in a warm and smelly tavern. And drunken Redcoats._

 

It was when the sky blackened completely that they reached the hill that gave a clear view Concord. Ziio explained to European companion, ‘That town hosts soldiers who seek to drive my people from these lands. They’re led by a man known as the Bulldog.’

 

‘Edward Braddock...’

  

Ziio immediately grew hostile as she questioned, ‘You know him?’

 

‘He is no friend of mine,’ the British answered with a hint of sadness in his voice.

 

‘So a friend of yours a long time ago. I take it,’ Alex said, observing the quiet town below them.

 

Kaniehtí:io ignored his comment as she continued explaining the situation to Haytham. ‘Every day more of my people are lost to men like him.’

 

‘Then I suggest we put a stop to it. Together.’ Alex glanced at the man who was still untrustworthy in his eyes, but the situation of Ziio and her people was as she had told him, dire and hopeless. The worse was that he knew that this coming war would drive her people further from their land and let them to an extinction of culture and identity.

 

‘What do you propose?’ asked Ziio.

 

‘That we kill Edward Braddock,’ Haytham answered as if it was the most obvious thing to do.

 

Though the Native woman was satisfied with the answer, Alex was not impressed. From his memory banks, he recalled correctly Braddock was ambushed when his troops crossed the Monogahela River on 9th July 1755, meeting an Indian and French force from Fort Duquesne and died four days later from a wound he suffered during the battle. This man claimed they would kill the general as if all they needed to do was stabbed the man in back like an assassin.

 

Alex sighed again, knowing that he had to wait few more months before he, Kaniehtí:io and the other clans would gather for the fight in Monogahela River. He was pulled out of his thought by the sound of leaves rustling and saw Ziio coming out of the leaves wagon. The British then made his jump without hesitation, leaving Alex alone on top of the hill, glaring at the wagon from below. To him, it was no different from a trampoline that had its middle cut and was just waiting for him to jump towards the pain of a broken back. Alex saw the look of calm impatient Ziio gave him and he took his jump, landing in the leaves and causing the wagon to break under his weight.

 

Mercer groaned, frustrated and angry at Ziio who dared giggle at him. He got out of the wagon dusting dry leaves off of him as he glared at woman who stifled her laughter as he headed towards the tavern where they would find some loose tongues that would give them the information he already knew. On his way, he turned to inform Haytham, who was the only who did not laugh at his predicament, ‘I don’t trust you.’

 

‘I know,’ Haytham replied.

 

‘Yet you remain,’ Ziio stated as they crossed the graveyard.

 

‘That I might prove you wrong,’ the British answered.

 

‘It won’t happen,’ said Alex with all the confidence and certainty of the world.

 

‘So you say.’

 

‘So we know.’

 

Alex felt like he was the third wheel in this banter. When they reached the door of the Wright Tavern, Haytham held them back and said. ‘Wait here. A Mohawk man and woman are likely to raise suspicions – if not muskets.’

 

The Blacklight virus rolled his eyes at the useless and pathetic excuse of a concern while Kaniehtí:io, with a tinge of annoyance, told Haytham, ‘This is hardly the first either of us have been amongst your people. I and he can handle ourselves.’

 

The Mohawk pushed the British aside as she entered the building while Haytham muttered under his breath, ‘I hope so.’

 

‘We know so,’ Alex added sing-song-like as he entered the building with Haytham left in the cold.

 

***

 

It was official. Haytham could not keep up with the Mohawk man. His emotions and attitude were like the mountains, with ups and downs. One minute, he was hostile enough to act like any Assassin he had ever met and the next, he acted like they were good friends teasing each other. The Templar got rid of this uneasiness he felt as he focused in getting into a corner where he could eavesdrop on the Redcoats and learned of Braddock’s whereabouts. And this time, ended him for good.

 

From what he had gathered from the drunken soldiers, Braddock was going to head south to deal with the French, but he was currently in an advanced camp, doing some planning. He already knew where the camp was located, so it was no longer necessary for them to stay in this place any longer. Haytham discreetly gestured to his Mohawk companions to leave. Well only Ziio came, Zeus was sitting at the counter taking his drink.

 

When he was about to grab the handle, someone shouted, ‘Oi, where you goin’, cully?’

 

Haytham calmly turned to look at the sad excuse for a human being and asked innocently, ‘Me?’

 

‘No. The other cock robin,’ the soldier taunted.

 

Haytham could feel the stare of his companion burning into his side, he looked between the door and the gathered soldiers as he started with a small smile, ‘Well, I uh... I WAS leaving.’

 

‘Oh? And now?’ the ugly soldier challenged. Haytham noticed the male Mohawk was setting down his drink with his shoulders tensed and readied for a fight.

 

‘Well now... I’m going to feed you your teeth,’ Haytham answered calmly as he got into his fighting stance.

 

Ziio, who was next him, edged away from the man as she wondered why he first thought she and Zeus would be the problem when they entered Wright. Before anyone made their first move, the soldier who had insulted Haytham got his head crushed by a drink filled mug and crashed into the wooden table next to him, breaking the furniture in the process. All the British in the room looked in the direction where the mug came from to see Zeus standing up from his seat and cracking his knuckles as he announced, ‘Seeing that we are already in trouble. Mind if I join in, gentlemen?’

 

‘Be my guest,’ Haytham replied with a shrug.

 

Immediately, the soldiers charged towards them with all guests cheering and shouting in the background. Haytham grabbed one by the neck and threw him to table breaking both wood and man as he began beating the soldier who tried to grab him from behind. Zeus remained on his spot, dodging each and every punch the soldiers threw at him and delivered one powerful blow to the four Redcoats who dared to attack him. One of the soldiers got lucky and nicked his right cheek which Haytham countered with a strong kick in the groin, making the man doubled over, and finished him with another strike on the back. He finished the last soldier standing by throwing him into the wall before he took his rest at the counter, next to Zeus, and glared at the downed soldiers.

 

Zeus pulled a bottle out from behind the counter and handed to him, whom Haytham answered, ‘No, I am not thirsty.’

 

‘It’s not for drinking,’ said Zeus, drawing Haytham’s attention to him instead of the mongrels on the floor. The Mohawk pointed at his cheek. ‘It’s for the cut.’

 

The man shoved the bottle into his hand while the British insisted that the injury was nothing. Ziio came with a towel and took the bottle from his lax hand, pouring some alcohol over it before gently pressing it over the wounded face of the Templar, softly saying. ‘This should stop the bleeding.’

 

The Templar stared at the two Mohawks in surprise. Their hostility towards him when they met was gone, replaced by care and worry. Those were feelings he had rarely felt from others, the only source of such feeling only came from his sister, not some strangers. After the bleeding stopped, Ziio removed the cloth just as he cleared his throat slightly and thanked them, ‘That wasn’t necessary. But thank you.’

 

The thanks seemed to snap Ziio back to business, while Zeus poured a drink from the used bottle, she stared at him and her companion and said, ‘We should move one. Meet me at Braddock’s camp when you two are ready.’

 

‘Will do. _Ista_.’ Zeus added the last part as an afterthought, which he earned a glare from the woman before she left them with the mess.

 

‘Ista?’ Haytham repeated curiously.

 

‘It means mother,’ Zeus explained with an amused smirk. ‘Ziio hates me for calling her that when she hasn’t had any children yet.’

 

The smirk was contagious enough to make Haytham smile. When the Mohawk poured a glass for him, Haytham accepted it and both of them knocked their mug against the other, a sign of comradeship between two unlikely people.

 

***

 

 _After obtaining a plan of Braddock’s_ expedition _, Ziio and Zeus and I have parted ways, but she promised that when the time comes, their tribes would come and help them. After some times alone in my room, I begin to wonder who Zeus truly was, he is a Mohawk yes, but when I talk to him, he acted like someone who had been living in towns before, as if he had expected the fight to happen before they even entered the tavern. When we met this afternoon, he has treated my existence with that of a prey, but after knowing that our common goal of eliminating Braddock, Zeus and Ziio treated me like a brother in arms. It was strange, when Ziio helped clean my bloodied cheek, it feels like Jenny taking care of me. Yet, when it is Zeus, the feeling in me is foreign to me. It is neither something I have felt when I have fought with Braddock in their early years, nor is it a feeling of a family. This piece of unknown in my heart unnerved me. I am starting to really worry if this shard of mystery in me would stay hidden or become the source that would compromise the Order..._


	4. 03 - Last Fight, Goodbyes, and Departure

**Last Fight, Goodbyes, and Departure**

 

Alex heard Haytham and his men approaching long before they even came to view. With them complaining about the weathers and the upcoming battle, it would take a huge miracle for no one to notice.

 

Ziio came into the clearing first followed closely by Haytham who Alex greeted with a nod. The British, seeing the three representatives of the other tribes, commented, ‘I see you’ve been busy.’

 

‘All these men are from many different tribes – united in their desire to see Braddock sent away. The Abenaki. The Lenape. The Shawnee,’ Ziio presented those gathered here.

 

‘And the two you? Who do you two stand for?’ Haytham asked.

 

‘Myself.’ That was the Native woman’s answer.

 

‘No one.’ That was his answer.

 

Haytham looked between them, probably wondering why their answer was so different from one another, but he knew they had prepared for Braddock’s arrival, so he asked, ‘What would you have me do?’

 

‘We will help the others to prepare,’ Kaniehtí:io answered before she turned to command the rest of the group. ‘Follow.’

 

Alex went ahead and left Ziio and Haytham in their position, quietly following Edward Braddock and, unless History was wrong, George Washington. Braddock was either stupid or his ego was as big as America was, because he began telling his guide of his plan. ‘Just savouring the moment. No doubt many wonder why it is we’ve pushed so far west. These are wild lands, as yet untamed and unsettled. But it shall not always be so.

 

‘In time our holdings will no longer suffice. And that day is closer than you think. We must ensure out people have ample room to grow and further prosper. Which means we need more land.’ Alex was really starting to hate Braddock’s attitude, but that might also be his Mohawk victim’s thought. ‘The French understand this – and endeavour to prevent such growth. They skirt around out territory – erecting forts and forging alliances – awaiting the day they might strangle us with the noose they’ve built. This must not come to pass! We must sever the cord and send them back! This is why we ride. To offer them one last chance: The French will leave or they will die!’

 

Alex thought that it was ironic that, in a few moments, Braddock would receive the very same threat he had just announced. The virus paused in his observation and looked back, wondering why they hadn’t started attacking yet, because he knew the British general would die in this battle. The general ordered his troops to stop as two scouts came to deliver some news. It was then that he noticed Haytham sneaking down the path to where some of the soldiers were resting. He killed one of them that had a higher rank uniform and hid behind thick bushes. Alex understood why the man did that and mentally applauded the man for his assassination strategy.

 

Haytham quickly came out, dressed in Redcoat uniform, taking one of the horses beside the small camp, and headed to the front of the army. Alex called out to Ziio and one Kanien'kehá:ka warrior and told them to follow him. While Alex trusted Haytham and his skills, he rather not let the man go in a monster’s den alone. If the British failed to complete the task, he or his allies would take the finishing blow.

 

Alex and his companion watched as Haytham held Braddock at gun point, readied to end the trash’s life when one of the soldiers shouted warnings, everyone turned to see a French soldier on a horse coming through the woods, running towards the two on horseback with his gun prepared to fire at Haytham. _Shit_. Alex thought as he was about to jump into the fray when someone shot the French, Alex looked up to see a Redcoat nodding respectively to Haytham. The small distraction allowed Braddock to make his escape.

 

‘ _You two stay and kill the soldiers. I’ll finish the man myself_ ,’ Ziio ordered them as she began running after the general.

 

‘ _Wait_!’ Alex shouted, trying to grab hold of her, but doing so gave the soldiers his position. He snarled angrily at the soldier who had shot him, readying his tomahawk, he taunted the Redcoats gathered around him, ‘Come and get me, you pieces of trash!’

 

***

  

Haytham dodged enemies and allies, and shot gunpowder barrels in his way as he continued his chase on Edward, until one of the trees fell in front of Braddock, causing him to tumble to the ground along with his surprised horse.

 

‘I never took you for a coward, Edward,’ Haytham commented as he pointed his pistol at his old friend. Braddock was once a man whom he trusted with his life, but the current general no longer deserved any of his mercy or pity.

 

‘Come on then,’ Edward taunted, which Haytham would have comply if someone hadn’t shot his horse from behind.

 

The Templar groaned as he hit the ground. When he tried to get up, he only found his leg caught under the downed animal. Braddock’s lackey reloaded his musket and went beside his master. 

 

‘Such arrogance. I always knew it would be the end of you,’ sneered Braddock as he approached him. He looked back at the gun and focused on him with a maddened look. ‘IS the end of you.’ 

 

Haytham looked at two Redcoats defiantly, but he knew his chances were up and it would take a miracle to get out of this dire position. The miracle took the form of Ziio who came out from behind a tree and threw the subordinate off of his horse, holding the struggling man down with her knife. She looked up Braddock as she said warningly, ‘Don’t.’

 

The Templar took his chance to pull his leg from beneath the horse’s corpse and Braddock took his to run. Ziio, while keeping her opponent busy with punches, shouted at him, ‘Hurry! Before he gets away!’

 

Haytham hesitated, not sure if she could handle a man on her own, but after she insisted, he chased the general once more. He really couldn’t believe that this man, who was screaming how he did not deserve to die, was the same person who had fought courageously in many battles.

 

‘You’re hypocrite, Haytham,’ Braddock shouted over his shoulder as the distance between grew smaller.

 

‘I’m sorry, Edward, but you’ve forced my hand,’ Haytham replied.

 

Suddenly, out of the wood, a tomahawk came flying out and imbedded at the general’s knee. Edward screamed in pain as he fell into the knee-deep water, hands going over his injured leg, while Haytham looked at where the weapon came from to see an angry Zeus standing next to the forest, clothing all bloody and his eyes had a murderous aura in them as he yelled, ‘Finish him already!’

 

The Templar complied and sank his hidden blade into his friend’s chest. Edward gasped and moaned painfully as he asked, ‘Why, Haytham?’

 

Haytham stood up as he looked everywhere but his dying friend as he explained, ‘Your death opens a door. It’s nothing personal.’ A contemplative pause before he turned his gaze back on Edward. ‘Well, maybe it is a LITTLE personal. You’ve been a pain in my arse after all.’

 

‘But we are brothers in arms...’ Edward gasped out.

 

‘Once, perhaps,’ Haytham answered. He had warned him before that all debts were gone between them and that the next time they met, it would be the last. ‘No longer. Do you think I’ve forgotten what you did? All those innocents slaughtered, And for what?’ It does not engender peace to cut your way to resolution.’

  

Haytham bended over to place his hand over Braddock’s neck as Edward objected, ‘Wrong! Were that we applied the award more liberally and more often, the world be a better place than it is today.’

  

‘In this instance, I concur,’ Haytham agreed and sank his hidden blade into the man’s side, not removing it until Braddock drew his last and final breath. The Templar got up and went to remove the ring that held the Order’s insignia. ‘Farewell, Edward.’

 

Haytham also removed the tomahawk and returned it to its rightful owner who was waiting for him to finish his personal business. ‘Thanks you for your help.’ 

 

The British looked over his Mohawk friend and asked, ‘Are you alright?’

 

Zeus laughed at his concern as he clapped his back and answered joyously, ‘I am alright Haytham. It will take more than a musket to kill me.’ 

 

Haytham smirked slightly at the boastful tone of the Native. It had been sometimes now since he last trusted someone. He had started doubting Birch’s words and second-guessing everything he said. Zeus was the first person in the New World and in the last few years that had his trust. Perhaps the source of this trust came from the fact that the man was always serious and said what was on his mind.

 

Haytham decided that, even if Zeus’ real name was a pain in the neck, he would remember it. ‘So what’s your real name then, Zeus?’

 

‘Do you really want to embarrass yourself so much?’ Zeus questioned teasingly, which Haytham complied with a nod. ‘It’s Ratonhnhaké:ton.’

 

Haytham stuttered the name at his first try and was groaning inside at all these impossible to pronounce names the Mohawks had. His displeasure must have appeared on his face as the Mohawk hunter laughed harder than before and said, ‘You don’t need to try saying that name. You can just called me Alex.’ 

 

‘Alex?’ Haytham repeated the common name.

 

Zeus–Alex–shrugged as he explained, ‘Zeus is just a name some people gave me. Alex is the one I identify myself with besides Ratonhnhaké:ton.’

 

‘I see,’ said Haytham. At the very least this name was better than the other two.

 

‘Beside that is not important. Don’t you have to meet up with Ziio?’ Alex reminded him. ‘She’s back at where we were, waiting for you.’

 

‘Thank you, my friend,’ said Haytham, giving the man a squeeze on the shoulder, a sign of friendship, as he started heading back to Ziio.

 

‘Friend, huh?’ He heard his Mohawk friend whispered.

 

***

 

 

Alex slowly walked towards the general direction where the Kanien'kehá:ka’s sacred cave was located, he expected that Ziio would be there with Haytham. He had just retrieved his entire saving of _borrowed_ money from under a tree he had buried near the village.

 

During the long walk, Alex pondered on Haytham’s word. The British said that Braddock’s death would open a door, he wondered if it was literal or not, or was he referring the wall with the pictograph of unknown origin, but more importantly the rounded depression on the wall seemed to fit something a round circular object. Haytham’s amulet would not fit into the wall if that was the keyhole. Did Haytham have something else in his possession that could open the door? Was that the reason why Haytham approached them and saved Ziio’s people?

 

Alex stopped when he realized that his thoughts were all revolving around the elusive British gentleman. The only times when someone’s name was constantly in his mind was when he cared about someone or when they were his obsession. Only two people were ever part of that list: Dana, who was his only family and was still in coma last he had seen of her, and Karen, for a short while, before he had consumed her. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, much like what he had seen in the memories from one of his victims. The breathing exercise helped calm him and lessened his thoughts over Haytham, and it also made him more focused on his task.

 

When he reached the sacred cave, it was already night. Surprisingly to him, he saw Ziio and Haytham were about to leave the cave, because he half expected that they had already left. Then his sense of smell caught a faint scent drifting from the cave, he sniffed the air again before the many souls in his mind identified the smell as sex, which made Alex gagged like a child who saw his parents kissing each other. The sound he made attracted his friends’ attention.

 

Both acted like two children caught stealing a cookie jar and stuttered excuses before they regained their bearings, but there was still a pale redness on their cheeks. Alex smirked deviously as he asked, ‘Did you guys have fun?’

 

Ziio glared at him for the inappropriate question and Haytham pretended to be focused on their surroundings, but neither answered the question. It was not like Alex expected that they would and he not interested in the answer either. It was just a teasing question. Maybe just a way to lighten the situation before his announcement.

 

‘ _What are you doing here?_ ’ Ziio hissed out in Kanien'kehá:ka.

 

Alex stole a glance at Haytham who was still ignoring him, probably his way to keep him from turning the awkward question towards him. The virus then announced his plan, ‘ _I will be leaving soon._ ’

 

Ziio looked at him in surprise before she asked, ‘ _Why? Where?_ ’

 

Alex wanted to tell her that soon the Mohawk Valley she knew wouldn’t exist anymore and that the American Revolution would begin in twenty years. The virus couldn’t announced any of those reasons, Ziio wouldn’t believe him. So he settled with, ‘ _I no longer have a reason to stay anymore, Ziio. I need to leave. I’ll be going to the other side of the ocean._ ’

 

Ziio remained emotionless at his answer, but she closed the gap between them and hugged him, surprising both Alex and Haytham. Alex was unused to someone, other than his sister hugging, so he was a bit at lost at what to do and kept his hands away from the Kanien'kehá:ka woman as she whispered, ‘ _I will miss you brother._ ’ 

 

When she removed herself from him, he replied, ‘ _And I will too, sister._ ’

 

Alex turned to look at Haytham, who was still confused by what had happened, and said to him warningly, ‘Take good care of Ziio, Haytham. If you hurt her, or she loses even one hair, I will _find_ you and _hunt_ you down no matter where you hide. Is that clear?’

 

Haytham was shocked for a moment before he asked, ‘You’re leaving?’

 

‘Yes, I am,’ Alex replied coolly. ‘You haven’t answered me. Is my threat clear to you?’

 

‘Yes,’ Haytham answered calmly, though his eyes told Alex he was disappointed of something. Of what, he wasn’t certain. The British pulled something out of his pocket, staring at it hesitantly for a moment before he took his hand and placed it in his opened palm. Alex realized it was the same ring that was taken from Braddock and looked at Haytham questionably. ‘If you ever find yourself in England, this ring will provide you some safety and shelter. If someone ever asked, tell them that it’s gift from Haytham Kenway,’

 

‘Thank you, I guess,’ said Alex, unsure of the meaning of Haytham’s word and the purpose of this ring, though he doubted that he would ever need to use the ring. His eyes inspected the small accessory in the palm of his hand, studying the white material before focusing on the red cross pattée. In his mind, he was wondering if it was a family heirloom or something. Maybe Haytham and Braddock knew each other, because their ancestors were both Templars.

 

‘Have a safe journey, my friend,’ said Haytham as he grasped his shoulder.

 

Alex returned the gesture and bidded both of them goodbye before he left for Boston, where he would take of one of the dreaded ships into the sea. He knew he could just immigrate to the southern land of the New World, but Europe was a much safer option and would keep him from being involved in the coming war.

 

***

 

_First I am disappointed by the precusor’s site and then of Alex’s leave. I really don’t know what the man is thinking, a Mohawk going to Europe. He will have a cultural disater when he arrives there, but the Templar ring should get him some help. I wish he will heed my words and head for England when he reaches land instead of some place else. What I wish the most is that none of the Assassins will find him. While I don’t doubt Alex’s ability to fight, I don’t think he is above from being manipulated into joining the Brotherhood._

_I hope this will not be the last time I will see him. No. I_ am _certain we_ will _see each other again. I will look forward to that day just as my Ziio is. Our friend will return to us. When he does, he will see the new world I will create with the Templar Order’s power, where his people is safe and happy just as Ziio is._


	5. 04 - Hello Great Britain and Connections

**Hello Great Britain and Connections**

 

Alex would have start kissing the ground when he finally got off the ship he had taken at Boston, but he was not desperate enough to disgrace himself in this way. The virus was only glad that he survived the constant storm the ocean kept throwing at the ship he was on and made it to London in one piece. He ran his fingers through his short dark brown hair as he looked around the loud port before he covered them with a tricorn hat. His current clothes were that of a Colonist instead of his Native ones. He kept Ratonhnhaké:ton’s form instead of taking another one, because Ziio and Haytham might try to track him down or get some news from him.

 

He threw his bag that held his tomahawk and his money over his shoulder as he went around the crowd, listening to the busy people talking about everything and nothing before he headed towards the general direction where the _Fox’s Den_ tavern was.

 

It was a short walk, because the tavern was the closest to the port and its main business focused on sailors, merchants and visitors from other countries. When he entered the tavern, it was full of people of different nationalities, but they were mostly sailors, he went to the counter to order a drink and set his luggage at his feet. The ale was soon placed in front of him and he sipped it slowly like a well-educated gentleman.

 

‘Hey, did you hear?’ someone said in a hush-hush tone. Alex placed the rim of the mug over his lips as his eyes searched for the speaker and found the person sitting in the far corner of the counter. ‘Another merchant is found dead last night, cut on the throat like all others.’

 

The man next to the speaker replied, ‘Yes, I am arranging my business to move to the New World, I don’t think it is safe to do business here anymore. The man was my neighbour and I didn’t hear anything from his house, I only found out what had happened on the news.’ 

 

This piqued Alex’s interest as he listened on. ‘You may be right in moving away, just seeing the killer’s poster gives me the creeps.’

 

Alex finished his drink as he pulled out a few golden coins, throwing them to the bartender who caught it and told him to prepare a room for him. The bartender happily thanked him as he left the tavern. _Now where do I find one of those posters?_

 

Just as he finished his mental thought he spotted a dog-eared poster slapped on a wall on which heavy black letters that screamed “MOST WANTED” and underneath the huge words were a vague drawing of the wanted man. The reason why it was vague was because the man’s face was hidden under the hood he wore, hiding the top halves of his face, showing only the mouth and chin. The details on the bottom were no help either, other than the man is white, extremely dangerous and whoever captured the man would received 10,000 pounds.

 

While Alex had money, it did not mean his money pouch was bottomless, so it was best for him to find some kind of income. His current income would be the bounty of this killer. He reached out and pulled the poster off of the wall, stuffing it into his bag as he continued with his exploration over the city.

 

***

  

After having memorized half of the layout of the city, Alex had returned to tavern to rest until it was nightfall, from the gossips and rumours he had heard, the killer targeted more than just merchants, there were soldiers, politicians, and a professor. The Blacklight virus couldn’t find what made all these people a target for the killer, unless the killer was like what he was back at Manhattan, a dangerous being with amnesia who hunted those responsible to his current state. Alex laughed at the idea. Gentek hadn’t even been established yet and Ohio, Hope, hadn’t happened, so the possibility of having another Runner out there was zero to none.

 

Alex decided a late night stroll with a pouch full of heavy gold and his tomahawk at his side to the shadier part of town was in order, because that’s where dark information with a price amassed other than a market area. It was a risk to keep his Native skin and wear his Indian clothes, because he might just get some _savages_ haters instead of thugs, but from the minds of soldiers and civilians who had lived in a poor district before, thugs would be the first to come.

  

It did not take long for a gang of thugs to surround him, leering at him like madmen. Alex stopped and calmly studied each of the five men that had him surrounded. The virus put on his best fake bravery as he challenged them, ‘What are you idiots waiting for?’

  

He held up his pouch of gold for them to see and shook it a little for them to hear the clinging of gold hitting gold as he taunted them further, ‘Isn’t gold what you greedy bastards want?’

 

One of the men charged towards, but Alex easily sidestepped away from the man’s track and weakly kneed him in the stomach before the thief fell to the ground, groaning in pain and holding his bruising middle. Alex looked at the rest of the group and asked tauntingly, ‘Next?’ 

 

Two men, with knife at ready, ran up to meet the challenge, the Blacklight virus dodged his first attacker’s strike, grabbed him by the collar and threw him back at his charging partner. The rest of the group was hesitating to attack him outright, one had already run, but he would deal with that one later. He quickly dispatched the rest with quick and precise hits.

 

‘Time for some housecleaning,’ Alex muttered as his arms became tendrils and grabbed his first attacker, consuming him and the rest of the thieves who barely had the chance to scream before they became part of his biomass. His hands reached up to clutch his throbbing head and his mouth opened to let out a silent scream as the memories surged through his mind and shelved among the other millions of memories. The memories all revolved around heists they had done together with a man named Gabriel and the failed ones caused by someone named Robert.

 

The virus quickly caught up to the escaped thief with a powerful jump and landed in front of the cowering man. In a blink of an eye, his hand was around the coward’s throat and the man was lifted from the ground. The man stared him in fear, gasping for air and clawing his arm, hoping to get his attacker to loosen his hold on him. 

 

Alex brought to the man’s face close to his as he whispered threateningly, ‘You have exactly one chance to get out of this without ended being dead like your friends. Bring me to your leader, or boss, or whatever you thieves call your leader. You either do this or you won’t ever see tomorrow’s daylight.’

 

The man immediately nodded at his request, Alex released him and said, ‘Good.’

 

The thief coughed a few more times before he started limping towards one of the crappy alley, moving around, jumping across trashes and climbing up to the rooftops. Alex almost lost his patience, thinking the man was just trying to lose him in his parkour tricks. 

 

The man suddenly announced, ‘We are here.’

 

Alex looked at the crappy and half falling house as he turned his threatening gaze on the man who was doing a very good job at being Smeagol in the Lord of the Rings trilogy as he gestured towards the house and fearfully explained, ‘Most of the soldiers don’t come into the poor district, this is Gabriel’s base of operations.’

 

‘Gabriel, huh?’ Alex repeated the name as he pushed the coward towards the door. 

 

Not caring what the coward’s name was, Alex decided to call him Smeagol. The thief entered the house first and called, ‘Gabriel? There is someone here to see you.’

 

Smeagol opened the door wider, enough for Alex to see who this Gabriel was. Alex’s first thought when he spotted the man was that he looked like an 18th century version of Gambit of the X-Men comic books. The man was in his early thirties, he had shoulder-length brown shaggy hair, faint stubble on his chin. He had a dark green waistcoat covering his white linen shirt, armguards covering his arms, fingerless gloves on his hands. Unlike most of the 18th century people, Gabriel did not wear breaches and stockings, instead he wore leather pants and knee-high riding boots. Alex studied the man and the room, looking for any kind weapon the man could get his hands on. On the left far side, there is a wall display of different rapier swords and beneath it was an opened display case of short knives. On the right, there were armours of different weight from light to heavy. The closest weapon Gabriel could grab were the throw knives sheathed on the coat hanger stand next to the hanged cloak.

 

Gabriel had his legs crossed and placed on the desk, his arms placed behind his head and had his chair tilted slightly. The leader of the thieves asked lazily, ‘Who is it?’

 

‘Um, uh,’ Smeagol sounded hesitantly as he looked back and forth between Alex and Gabriel.

 

‘My name is Zeus,’ Alex began as he approached the table. ‘A Native Indian from the New World and I am here to make business with you Mister Gabriel.’

 

The thief cracked opened one eye to study him before he closed them again and asked, ‘Why would I want to do business with a savage? Or do you prefer Zeus, your lordship?’ 

 

Alex, unaffected by the man’s sharp words, threw his pouch on the table, where some of its content got spilled, gleaming slightly under the candle’s light. Gabriel yawned as he removed his foot from the table, letting his chair slammed loudly on the wooden floor, leaning in, and asked suspiciously, ‘What does a savage come to me for?’

 

‘I want information,’ Alex started all business-like. ‘I am after the bounty of the famed killer who has his posters shown all across the city.’ 

 

At that Gabriel leaned back, arms crossed in front of his chest, fingertips against fingertips, and asked suavely, ‘What do I gain in this _partnership_?’

  

‘A share of the bounty,’ Alex answered, putting his hands on the edge of the table. ‘You will provide me with information and weapons. I will do the hunting and collecting the bounty that we will share. This business will continue until the world doesn’t have any bounty left.’

 

Both men knew that there would always be rich men willing to give a huge reward to whoever killed their targets or enemies. Gabriel wore a thoughtful look for a moment before he explained, ‘Sadly for you, my good sir. Information and weapons I cannot provide. Not because of financial problems. You see, there is someone else in London, beyond this poor district, a thief named Robert Dupuis controls every coming and going streams of information. Dupuis has an ally who eliminates and steals every piece of information my men gather. As days passed, I lose more and more men who went to help Dupuis.’ 

 

‘Here’s what I propose to you,’ Gabriel began with a content look. ‘I have two tasks for you to complete. First, you must go and find Madame Giry. She lives three blocks northeast from my house. She is the one who looks after every street prostitute and beggar in the city, tell her that Gabriel is in business once more and show her your pouch of gold. I will collect my share later. After you receive her aid, we will show the information.’

 

Gabriel put the gold back into the pouch and slid it back to Alex as he continued, ‘The second task is to bring me Robert’s head. If you can’t grab his head then take the triangular shaped pendant to me as a proof that you have accomplished your task. With him out of the picture, I and Giry will control the flows of information once more and whatever is ours will be yours, given with a reasonable price of course. Then the weapons will be yours and the man you look for will be revealed.’

 

Alex nodded as he replaced his pouch at his side. Just as he had his hand over the doorknob, Gabriel called out to him and said, ‘You better get some better clothes, my friend. The city does not welcome your kind anymore than they will welcome us. I suggest you use some of your gold to get clothes before you meet up with Giry.’

 

Alex nodded before he left for the tavern.

 

***

  

Next morning, dressed in some modest clothes and with a half-filled pouch of gold, Alex headed towards the block where Madame Giry was. When he reached the location, he was swarmed by a group of beggars, but his cold and warning gaze kept them from approaching. Prostitutes and beggars parted ways for him and he walked until he reached the center of the block where an old woman in a tattered dress stood and some girls were handing out food and cloak to the people. The woman had her grey hair tied into a bun and her skin was as gnarl as an old tree’s bark.

 

Alex approached the woman and asked, ‘Are you Madame Giry?’

 

The old woman looked at him sharply, piercing blue eyes on his face, and coldly asked, ‘Did the governor decide that we can’t even stay in this district anymore?’

 

Alex arched an eyebrow at the elder woman’s words and answered, ‘No ma’am. I am not one of the governor’s men. Gabriel had told to tell you that he is in business once more. And offer you this.’ 

 

Madame Giry immediately took the pouch from his hand and pulled one of the golden coin out, studying it in different position and biting it with her slightly yellowed teeth before she nodded satisfyingly and asked, ‘Gabriel didn’t have any business for the passed few months, how did he come in possession of this gold?’

 

‘I am the one who has given it to him, he told me to bring it to you,’ Alex replied calmly.

 

Giry hummed lightly as she studied him from head to toe and turned around him, studying him like he was some kind of exotic animal on display. Alex let her continued with her observation, because he needed the information. 

 

‘Gabriel and I used to be the best source of information in the city, but a few years ago, Robert Dupuis arrived and everything that was ours became his,’ Madame Giry recounted as she moved to sit on the stack of boxes to rest. ‘I lost my house while Gabriel lost his family. No one is coming to us for information anymore, so why do you come to us instead of Dupuis, young man?’

 

‘Let’s just say a little rat has told about Gabriel and I have the money to spend on some information concerning a killer on the loose,’ Alex explained as he stood next to the resting old woman.

 

‘Ah, the Assassin,’ Giry moaned out. ‘That’s what Dupuis has called the man. The man hunts down men of power and of riches. Everything either falls into his and Dupuis hands or to the governor.’

 

The old woman stared at the beggars and prostitutes who had gathered here before she turned her gaze on him and said, ‘If you can remove Dupuis and the Assassin. I will help in any way I can, even if the cost is this old life of mine.’ 

 

While Alex did not care for what Gabriel and Giry’s sad story or their situation, the virus couldn’t help the growing the desire to help these poor men and women. His eyes landed on a woman who had her hair cut, she had probably sold it to get some money to feed the child beside her. The prostitute looked almost like Dana with her short hair. If it was Dana, he wouldn’t just leave her on the street and let strange men take advantage of her body.

  

He refocused on the old lady and said, ‘I will kill Dupuis and the Assassin. You have my words, Madame Giry.’

 

The lady gently smiled as she got off of the boxes and announced, ‘Well then, we have works to do.’

 

She gestured to him to follow as the people gave them space to move and they only stopped when they reach the end of the alley. She pointed upwards where behind the two buildings he could see a distant mansion and she said, ‘That’s the Dupuis Manor. Dupuis spent his entire day in his office, storing information and writing records. At night, he will sometimes leave his mansion to go the tavern La Volpe. None of my boys and girls ever got anymore information on why he goes there. Other than those few times, he will remain within his fortress.’

 

‘Thank you, Madame Giry,’ Alex thanked the elder lady with a nod. ‘You will soon receive good news from me.’

 

Alex already headed towards the mansion, leaving the old woman behind who whispered wistfully, ‘I hope so, son. I hope so.’

 

***

 

Alex had been observing and memorizing the patterns and timetable of each patrol the guards made. It was way passed noon that he made his move. He easily slipped into the mansion without being seen by any of the guards. It was when he was inside that things got a bit problematic, because he did not have a map that could tell him which corridor to take to reach Dupuis’ office, though he expected the office of the information broker to be located somewhere in the second floor.

 

He took a few turns and back before he found the stairs and a coming squad of guards, cursing in Native, Alex quickly jumped and landed still on the creaking beam that shook under his weight. He hoped that the wood wouldn’t break until the guards were out of sight.

 

When guards left without noticing his presence, Alex let out a relieved sigh as he landed the carpet ground, muffling the cracking noise slightly. The virus reached the second floor without incident and began searching room by room. Alex smirked in victory when he found Dupuis’ office with said man’s back facing him.

 

Alex closed the door quietly. Dupuis seemed to notice someone was in the room, but he mistook him for the Assassin and said, ‘Ah my friend, you come earlier than I thought, but the information you want are on my desk.’

 

The Blacklight virus went to the desk and spotted the stack of information the information broker mentioned. He flipped through the pages that held information on a man named Reginald Birch, personal information and business, along with a map of the Chateau the man lived in. While going over them, Alex noticed the familiar symbol of a red cross pattée. As he looked back at the picture of Birch, he noticed the familiar ring on the man’s ring finger. The virus was certain that the ring in the picture was the same one Haytham had handed him.

 

Before Alex wondered what the meaning of the ring, Dupuis already finished reading the book he held and turned to see Alex, a stranger, looking through his documents. The information broker yelled, ‘WHO ARE YOU?!’

 

Alex looked up in the time to dodge the sword coming towards him, the documents on Reginald Birch was scattered into the air as Dupuis lunged fowards with his sword, Alex parried it with his tomahawk and kicked the man in the stomach, sending the man flying over the balcony and screaming to his death.

 

Alex frowned as he grabbed the paper that had Birch’s picture, the biography and the map of Birch’s chateau before he jumped over the balcony and landed heavily beside Dupuis’ corpse. He really should have consumed the man when he had his chance, because the man’s mind was a gold mine of information, but now it was impossible with the brain splattered all over the ground. Alex removed the man’s coat before he decapitated the corpse covering it with the clothing. As an afterthought, Alex took the pendant Gabriel spoke of and tied it to his tomahawk.

 

When he got up, a shriek sounded behind him. Alex glanced over his shoulder to see a maid pointing at him and five guards behind. _Time to go!_

 

Alex dodged the first bullet that was fired at him, he growled angrily before he dashed towards his attacker, slamming his tomahawk into the junction between neck and shoulder, killing the man instantly as blood covered his face. The guards were shocked at the quick attack which gave an opening to Alex to eliminate them all. The virus slashed the throat of the one closest to him and imbedded his weapon into leader’s vertebral column. Taking the sword from the downed leader, Alex swiped the blade underneath a guard before impaling the sword straight through his heart. When he turned to the last man standing, the guard was shaking as he muttered prayers and backed away from him, Alex smirked viciously as he threw the sword towards the screaming man. The bladed weapon imbedded into the man’s skull as the horrid sound died down. The Blacklight virus went to retrieve his tomahawk from the corpse before he looked at the maid who was now knelt on the ground, frozen on her spot and her skin pale as his eyes focused on her. Alex, inwardly grinning like a Cheshire Cat, brought his index finger to his bloodied lips, a pleasant smile stretched his lips, and shushed her.

 

The simply act caused the woman to faint and Alex chuckled at the extreme reaction. He climbed over the wall and sprinted away before every guard within Dupuis Manor was notified of their employer’s death and the appearance of Dupuis’ killer. Alex safely reached another district, allowing him to carefreely walked towards Gabriel’s house.

 

Alex’s path was surprisingly empty and silent, but he guessed after what had happened last night, Smeagol must have warned everyone to keep away from his path unless they wanted to end up like his bodiless friends. The virus was pouting internally, because he had kind of hoped to kill something on his way to Gabriel.

 

Alex slammed the door opened when he arrived at Gabriel’s house and threw the severed head on the thief’s desk, Gabriel didn’t even flinch when Dupuis’s head rolled out of the cloth. Though the thief’s eyes widened as he looked up at him and asked in astonishment, ‘Already?’

 

‘I work fast,’ Alex replied with a grin.

 

Gabriel wore a satisfied smirk as he stood up from his seat and gave him an exaggerated bow as he announced, ‘It will be a pleasure to do business with you, my friend. I, Giry and our men will begin our search immediately.’

 

‘Here’s something for you to begin with,’ said Alex as he pulled out the rolled-up papers on Birch. ‘When I first came into Dupuis’ office, he mistook me for this Assassin and these are some of the documents I have taken.’

  

Gabriel took them and scanned over them, nodding and mumbling to himself. ‘Hmm. Reginald Birch? I shall see what I can find.’

  

Gabriel threw Dupuis’ head off of the desk and brought the documents on his slightly cleaned desk, pulling papers, quill, inkpot and a signet out.

 

‘One more thing,’ Alex announced, drawing the man’s attention. He approached the man and took Haytham’s ring out for the thief to study. ‘I need you to look into the secret of this ring. I spotted the same ring on Birch’s ring finger. I want to know if there is something special about it.’

 

When Gabriel reached to take from his hands, Alex caught the man’s wrist tightly as he whispered warningly, ‘I want the ring back.’

 

Gabriel nodded before Alex released his wrist. The thief brought the ring closer to his eyes for a careful examination, the man nodded and replied, ‘I will see what I can find. You will be the first to receive any news of our discovery.’

 

‘Good,’ Alex muttered as he left the house. In his mind, he wondered if he truly wanted to discover the secret of the ring. He feared that the truth would be just like the one he had found of him being the one who had released the Blacklight virus in Pennslyvania Station and infected Manhattan. What if this ring brought out some terrible truth that should have stayed hidden? Alex shook his head as if the action would get rid of the hesitation. _Even if the truth isn’t one I wan to know, I have to know. It is better than wondering every day and night about it._


	6. 05 - Hello Assassin and Becoming an Assassin

**Hello Assassin and Becoming an Assassin**

 

It took one month for Gabriel and Giry to have gathered all the necessary information on the Assassin and the target that the killer was after, but it was not a boring wait. There was enough trouble in London that didn’t come from Gabriel’s men, he fought thugs and mercenaries who thought he was a pushover, though what satisfied his bloodlust the most were a group of hooded men. It was annoying to him at first, because many of them focused hit-and-run tactics, something people never done when facing him, but when he caught the attack patterns, he had dispatched them all with one swift strike. The surprise that he shrugged off a fatal hit also helped. He had done some courier jobs and had beaten some unfaithful husbands and boyfriends when he was really bored.

 

Once in a while, he would go bother either Gabriel or Giry. Gabriel’s habit in passing time was questionable, because entering a brothel and cared not if the prostitute in his arms was male or female was both unhealthy and asking for trouble. It took a long time for gay marriage to be approved and Gabriel was daring the city to arrest him and hang him for that. Alex hadn’t been interested in any kind of physical interaction and Gabriel was bugging him because of his disinterest, he had even asked him if he preferred a male partner than a female one out of curiosity which earned him a tomahawk slammed next to him. Giry was a slightly better company than Gabriel. Why slightly? The reason was because the old lady would fuss over him, like a mother hen, over the silliest things from his health to his clothes. Still, Alex found that it was a little nice to have someone worry for him. Sometimes seeing her exasperated face was worth his day.

 

Alex went to Gabriel’s house, where both information brokers waited him. Gabriel now fully dressed with armour, weapons and cloak, looking like a Robin Hood mixed Gambit. Madame Giry looked better than last time he had seen her, wearing a modest dress than the tattered one she wore when they had first met. Alex greeted them with a nod and asked, ‘What did the two of you have find?’

 

‘My children had been observing Reginald Birch for weeks now,’ Madame Giry started, hands clasped in front of her robe. ‘Once a week, he will have guests coming over. Always the same people: businessmen, mercenaries, and politicians. If I didn’t know better, I’ll say the man is part of a cult or a business shadier than Gabriel and mine. The Assassin, on the other hand, hadn’t made an appearance in weeks, which was strange, any of my men and women would have spotted him at least once, but he had shown neither hide nor hair.’

 

‘I have my thieves _collecting_ scraps of Dupuis’ archive. From what I have collected so far, everything that concerns Reginald Birch and the Assassin is coded or parts are missing,’ Gabriel reported and handed him Haytham’s ring. ‘As for the ring, each and every visitor of Birch has a ring like this, but we are uncertain of what the ring truly represents.’

 

Giry took over. ‘So far, we can only be certain that the symbol is that of the Knight Templars. From what I remember of my history, the Templars were accused of idolatry and heresy and the Church has them all burned at stake. We can only guess that a small group of Templars has survived and is rendered as a cult. Birch might be leader of the cult.’

 

Alex was doubtful, because from what he saw in Haytham, the man was anything but religious and he didn’t react like some sort of obsessed madman. In fact, the British acted more driven and determined like a soldier with a goal. There must be something more to this whole Templar business than just a simple cult. Still he needed to know where the Assassin was.

 

‘Do the two of you have any idea where the Assassin might be?’ Alex asked.

 

‘Seeing that the target might be Reginald Birch,’ said Gabriel thoughtfully. ‘You should perhaps focus on tailing after the man. I believe that today, he will go to observe the progress of the new ship’s construction. The location and the nearby area are both full and empty. It is the best environment to strike if I was the Assassin.’

 

Alex nodded in understanding as he asked, ‘Gabriel, I want you to continue your search in the Templar matter and Giry, you tell your men to keep a close eye on Birch and every one of the men who visited him.’

 

‘That will cost you,’ Gabriel muttered, earning a glare from Alex, before he sighed tiredly. ‘Alright, I’ll look into it, but I reserve the right to say, this is a wild goose chase.’

 

Alex quickly said his farewells and headed to the port. It was difficult to prevent himself from bumping and being bumped into. Though he was glad that Birch was making his presence known to the entire block, it made his job easier. Alex decided to get higher view on the area and went to rooftop of one of nearby buildings, relaxing slightly as he continued with his watch around the area and Birch.

 

***

 

One hour of yelling, two hours of silent studying and three hours of being a brat summed up Birch’s day at the port. Alex, on the hand, spent six hours lazing around like a cat on the rooftop, but there was no sign of Assassin anywhere. It was one day of complete waste of time.

 

Alex continued tailing after Birch until the man reached his chateau when the sun was on its slow course to descend. The virus sighed in relief, because one more word out of the man’s mouth and he would consume him just to get some silence around here. Alex decided that there was still some time left before the shops closed and headed towards one of the bookshops that near were the _Fox’s Den_. If he had to spend six more hours of hearing Birch’s annoying voice, he would like to something to do to pass time. Alex slipped into the first bookstore he found and started browsing around the bookshelves while the owner was watching his every move like a hawk, probably thinking that he was going to steal one of the books.

 

Alex ignored the man’s existence and focused on the book titles his index finger traced on. His hand stilled at the title _Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World. By Lemuel Gulliver, First a Surgeon, and then a Captain of several Ships_.

 

Memories of Dr. Mercer surfaced for the first time since he had arrived in Colonial times, the memory showed him of a child Dana asking him to read _Gulliver’s Travels_ to her. Alex pulled the book out and studied the cover that was far plainer than Dana’s colourful children book. Alex smiled softly at the memory of Dana smiling, the smile turned sad as the virus remembered that his sister was in coma when he left her.

 

Alex’s hand tightened around the book at the memory of Dana’s still body as he picked her up and ran to Dr. Ragland’s morgue. He knew that he should be focusing in finding a way back to his sister, but he had no idea of whatsoever on _how_ he even got here to begin with. With the Revolution coming up, it would be safer to lay low for now until the war was over to look for clues. That or he could wait for around two centuries. In a way, Dana’s state hadn’t worsened or bettered, because the events that lead to her injuries hadn’t started yet and this time, he might be able to prevent it.

 

Alex was snapped out of his musing when a loud and intentional cough sounded in the empty shop. The virus looked over his shoulder to stare at the shopkeeper who frowned at him as he asked, ‘Are you done browsing, _sir_? I have to close my shop.’ 

 

Alex approached the counter with a cold smile as he dropped the book before the shopkeeper as he said, in an icy polite voice, ‘Yes, _kind sir_. I want this book.’ 

 

Alex mentally laughed as he thought. _The Mercer smile always works._

  

The man quickly stuttered out the numbers, Alex dropped the necessary coins on the counter, giving the man one last smirk, before he left the shop with book in hand. The sky was already darkening when he stepped outside, but it did not bother him as the other citizens of London who all hurried to get back into the safety of their houses. The virus whistled as he moved around the streets as if he owned them. 

 

Darkness’ blanket covered the sky and stars lightened amongst the black sky just as workers began to fill the lamps with light. Alex paused in his walk to look at the starry heaven above him as he recalled the first time he had actually and truly looked at the night sky. Back in modern Manhattan, he was focused in finding the truth of who he was and the secret Gentek had hidden that he never really took notice of the simplest little things around him until everything got infected. The sky in his _own_ memory was either pitch black, blood red or sick green. It was only when he was with the Kanien'kehá:ka that he had actually enjoyed looking up at the vast sky.

  

London was not the best place for stargazing with its constant cloudy weather and foggy days, but he could still see them. Alex continued with his stargazing for a while as the street was quickly emptied, he tapped his foot lightly on the stone ground as he tilted his head slightly to the side and asked, ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

 

Alex knew someone was following him since he had left the bookshop, but he decided not to act until he had reached somewhere remotely deserted, which was currently in the middle of the square he was standing on. He knew that this junction between streets were only busy during the day, not at night, this place was as silent and empty as a graveyard, a perfect place for an ambush and a fight.

 

Alex watched as a hooded figure in white appeared from the shadow with the darkness parting ways for the person. Both men stared at each other, sizing the opponent up and waited for one of them to make the first move. With his photographic memory, Alex was certain this was the Assassin who had the entire city in alert to have him hunt down.

 

‘I have to say, you are not really what I have expected,’ Alex stated casually with his arms crossed and book still in hand. ‘Though I get I should be honoured to be in your presence, Assassin.’

 

The killer was still silent. Alex wondered if the man was a mute, therefore Dupuis didn’t even bother to look back to see who had truly entered his office. Alex’s eyes went to scan for any weapon the man carried and found three main weapons and at least ten small ones. A flintlock pistol, a sword and a knife, sheathed throwing knives on the belt and forearm.

 

Alex doubted that that was everything the killer had on him, the virus focused on his sense of hearing while his eyes remained on Assassin. He could hear heartbeats around them and he estimated there were at least five people observing them, three on the rooftops and two behind Assassin. _So he didn’t come alone._

 

‘Aren’t you going to present your friends to me?’ Alex asked lightly.

 

His question acted as a trigger for the hidden men to attack, Alex easily sidestepped away from the bullets that rained down from above him and ducked from the ones shot from Assassin and his lackey. Alex smirked at the smoke screen created from the smoking guns, he quickly switched to Thermal vision and began climbing up to the roof where the three assassins were. He caught the first one by the ankle and threw him off of the roof and began dispatching another attacker with his tomahawk and crushed the last one’s head against the chimney. Alex then looked over the rooftop to see where Assassin and the remaining men were, but he only found an empty square.

 

Alex turned around just to find two hidden blades imbedded themselves into his eye sockets. The virus growled loudly as he slipped and fell to the ground that cracked in impact and his loose fingers released the book. He personally hated when someone fired or stabbed his head, because in a few short seconds, he was blind and disoriented as he waited for his face to regenerate. _No more mister nice guy_.

 

Alex immediately stood up from the crater of his own shape, he jerked his neck to the side and it cracked back into place. His eyes focused on the men who were staring at him in shock before he gave them a viciously grin, that promised pain and death, and called out clearly, ‘My turn.’

 

He always returned the favour tenfold to those who had shot or stabbed him. Alex did not care if someone accidentally saw him, because the witness would, after what he was going to do to Assassin and his lackeys, either faint or go crazy by the amount of gore. Alex simply unleashed his powers instead of using his tomahawk. Claws were his first weapon to use. In the blink of an eye he had them through one of the hooded men’s stomach and head. Alex changed his claws into a one-arm whip, which he extended to grab the assassins who started reloading their pistol, but Assassin ducked in time to escape his grasp while the other was not so lucky. With a small tug, the bio-organic whip tore through the man’s stomach much as a metal wire cut through a block of clay. Before the lackey’s body even fell into two pieces, Assassin already began his escape.

 

‘Oh no, you don’t,’ Alex called out as he lashed out his arm whip to ensnare Assassin, but his target got out of reach again. _Damn. That guy is slippery._

 

Alex, with one jump, easily blocked the escape route of Assassin as he rushed towards with his arm whip shifted into the shape of a giant clever sword. His eyes focused on the chest where the sternum was located, not wanting to dismember the body too much that it was not possible for the examiner to determine that it was the corpse of the killer the government was hunting after and he did not want to spend hours explaining how he got the man cut in two clean parts.

 

When Assassin evaded his thrust, Alex inwardly thought. _After I have showed them Assassin’s corpse, I will make sure to consume him._

 

Despite with no power of whatsoever, the man was able to dodge his attack, not even Blackwatch’s soldiers were able to keep up with him, even with all of their fancy equipment. Still, it was best that he finished this fast, he had learned to never linger in one place too long unless he wanted troubles.

 

Assassin had emptied his entire arsenal of throwing knives, his empty pistol laid forgotten, his short dagger was imbedded in the ground, and the sword was his only and last weapon to defend himself with. Alex switched his limb back to a normal human hand and clapped his hands loudly, he applauded, ‘Bravo! You are the first to survive my attacks for five minutes. Sadly, I can’t let you leave with your life intact.’

 

Assassin simply readied his weapon, prepared to die, while Alex sighed as he morphed his hands into deadly claws once more before both of them charged towards the other, the sword skimmed his side while Alex had the claws imbedded in the chest, crushing the heart of the killer as the man exhaled his last pained gasp.

 

Alex removed his claws from the man, but out of a small amount of respect, he caught the dead man instead of just letting the body fall. Alex was not completely certain why he even showed respect to the dead assassin, but it might the influence of the Kanien'kehá:ka’s sense of respect and honour. The virus smiled wryly at the memory of Ziio’s wisdom towards the death of the animal, one life given to preserve another, someone’s or something’s death must be a necessity, not an act committed for pleasure but of survival. In this case, Assassin’s death would give him money and would allow him to survive in this forsaken land another year.

 

Alex turned and allowed his tendrils to slither over the dismembered corpses to consume them. The Blacklight virus grabbed hold of his head with one hand, the other released its released its hold on the hood of Assassin, as he felt the tidal waves of memories crashed over him, he quickly focused on the similar memories the lackeys shared to dim the pain. He found out that it was easier and less painful to absorb multiple targets’ memory if he found a similarity between them. In this situation, it was the training they had all received from Assassin.

 

When the migraine was over, Alex picked up the book he had almost forgotten and hauled Assassin’s corpse over his shoulder before he headed in the direction of the mayor’s house, readied to get his just rewards.

 

***

  

Alex was glad that he had brought the book, because when he first arrived at the mayor’s house, everyone thought he was joking about having caught the killer, it wasn’t until he threatened one of guards with a horrific and bloody death did someone went to wake the mayor who after hearing the oh so joyous news sent some couriers to get some people who could identify Assassin. Afterwards, the mayor and his company locked themselves in the room with Alex reading in the guestroom.

  

The virus really wondered why it took so long for those bastards to identify Assassin, because studying someone’s face did not take two hours to accomplish. Alex sighed frustratingly as he refocused on the printed words in the book.

 

He nearly jumped up and danced on his chair when he heard the double doors’ lock clicked, but Alex kept his cool and continued with his reading. He listened to the footsteps approaching until they stopped in front of him, Alex spared a glance from his book and was surprised to Reginald Birch standing over him, he lowered the book slightly and asked, ‘Is there something I can help you?’

 

Birch ignored his question and asked, well more like demanded, ‘Is it you who has killed the Assassin?’

 

Alex slammed his book shut as he stood up and answered politely, ‘Yes, I am the one.’

 

Reginald’s eyes studied him intently and Alex coolly stared back at the man, not liking the Englishman one bit. A few minutes later, Birch gave a fake smile to him and thanked him with a thin smile. ‘Thank you for removing the black stain in our society, Sir...’

 

‘Zeus,’ said Alex. ‘Bounty hunter.’

  

‘Right,’ said Birch, his facial expression showed that he doubted his ability. Probably because of his skin colour if Alex had to guess. ‘We have a proposal to you. There is a cult in which men and women dressed in a similar fashion as our deceased killer, they will harm innocent citizens just for the pleasure. We want you to hunt each and every one of them down. Do this and for each cultist you capture or kill, you receive a bounty of 1000 pound.’

 

Alex wore a thoughtful look for a moment before he extended his to the businessman and announced, ‘Agreed.’

  

The deal was sealed with a firm handshake.


	7. 06 - A Chaotic Return

**A Chaotic Return**

 

**12 years later...**

 

**January 7 th, 1770**

 

Alex was glaring and frowning, but it did not matter to him if he was scaring people away. He continued glaring at the young man who was running house to house to deliver letters and collected his money. The current assassin slashed bounty hunter was tapping his feet over the small steps of his house, impatiently waiting for the boy to finally notice that someone would kill him if he did not come to his doorstep at this instance. His glare must have finally taken effect as the young mailman shivered slightly and turned to look at him. 

 

The boy was searching through his bag of letters and pulled out a small stack of letters, which Alex snatched from him and threw one gold coin to the deliverer before he went back into his house, slamming the door close as he went through the letters and skillfully threw assassination contracts to one side of his desk and useless party invitations to the fireplace, but the stack did not have a letter he was waiting for.

 

For the passed ten years, Haytham would always send a letter to him when his _great_ deed of defeating the Assassin crossed the Atlantic Ocean. Alex was glad to see the letter his two great friends sent each time he received them and was happy for the two couple. He sent letters back, of course, but he never got the reply for them, only new letters of what had recently happened on the other side of the world. Though recently, he hadn’t received any letters from Haytham and he was starting to get worry as each month passed by, almost a year now, without receiving one single new from the British. 

 

He spent the past decade in bounty hunting, assassination and traveling, sometimes he had missed the letters, but Gabriel or Giry would have kept his letters during his absent. So far, the messengers he had paid to deliver the replies never returned and those who did return said they couldn’t the recipient of his letters.

 

Alex began pacing in front of the fireplace as his mind drifted back to Assassin’s memories. After having an agreement with Birch and the mayor, Alex crept back in to consume Assassin’s body, which sometimes he regretted having done it, because he discovered something he wished he never knew. There was a secret war behind the humanity’s entire history. It was a war between Templars and Assassins.  The Templars fought for control over humanity and the Assassins guarded the freedom of will. Personally, Alex did not want to meddle with this affair of secrecy and conspiracy, he saw the pros and cons of both side, and he refused to take side in this endless war. Despite his refusal, the Assassin souls tried their best to sway him into their side to the point that he created a heavy set of mental doors to shut them up. The first reason of his refusal was as stated above, he did not want to get involve with this eternal war, and the second was because Haytham was a Templar, he was his friend and Ziio’s husband. He sooner died than make Ziio a widow.

 

After some more pacing, mental dialogues and a few more memory diving, Alex went to his desk and began writing letters to his allies. He decided that he would return to America.

 

***

  

**The next morning...**

 

It was a slow day. Light rain and cold wind were not the best conditions that created happy workers or citizens. Alex was standing near the port, a portable chest and traveller bag near his feet. Standing beside him was: Madame Giry, Gabriel, a scruffy-looking man named Clayton Agard. The years were kind to Madame Giry, with the money from the bounty, she was able to reclaim her house and some of her fortune, and with Alex’s idea of a charity-base program to help the homeless, Giry helped many with the charity galas she planned for the rich nobles who all made one donation or another for fame or image. Gabriel was Gabriel, the thief who provided him with information and planning different heists for the growing number of thieves who had joined him, and he was still the daredevil who was not ashamed of showing his indifference towards his bed partner’s gender. Alex had to bail Gabriel out two or three times from the scandals he made. Clayton was a mercenary who had joined their band of misfits a year after Alex’s first bounty hunt. The half-English and half-French man was on parole in his country, he escaped to London, hoping to find a job and freedom. Alex saved him from persecution and later when the virus found out that the man was a natural in swordplay, he and Gabriel help the poor man to become a mercenary who currently led his own group of hired arms. The mercenaries were Alex’s army in a way whenever he had to storm a place by force to reach a target.

 

Alex was groaning as he whined like child as he pushed Giry’s hands away from him, ‘ _Mom_ , will you stop that already!’

 

‘Then you should that as a mother, I have the right to, hmm, what was that word you use... ah, fuss! Yes. I have the right to fuss over you,’ Giry exclaimed as she continued tugging and straightening his clothes just like a mother did to a child when they were going to a formal ball.

 

Gabriel, on the hand, was sniggering and Clayton was doing his best to keep his thin and small smile from turning a face-splitting grin. Alex was glaring at his two accomplices before he returned his furious gaze on Giry who totally ignored him and continued with her perfectionist observation on every single imperfect detail of his clothes.

  

‘Giry, if you continue to tug my coat, I will not hesitate to slap you for that,’ Alex threatened lightly.

 

‘I will like to see you do that and see if you survive mine afterwards,’ the old lady countered as she continued fixing his shirt and coat. ‘Now hold still and let me do my job.’

  

Gabriel pretended to cough into his fist, though it sounded like a laugh, before he said with a Cheshire smile, ‘My dear Zeus, if you want to, I can go find a male tailor to fix your clothes if you want.’

 

‘For the last time, Gabriel, I am not interested in men or women,’ Alex sneered at the thief.

 

Gabriel gave him a mocking pout as he placed his two gloved hands over his heart and said dramatically, ‘Oh, you hurt my feelings Zeus. Oh my dear patron, how can you do this to me, I have been so loyal to you and gave you all those tributes in careful selection. I have done nothing but serve you.’

 

‘More like _corruption_ , _voleur_ ,’ said the mercenary, finally taking pity for the assassin who gave a grateful look for defending him, and gave the thief a light shove. ‘After failing so many times, you still try _convaincre_ him, _tu_ should know by now that Zeus _n’aime_ pas _tes jumelages_.’

 

‘And you still speak French in your English,’ Gabriel muttered unhappily. ‘It’s a miracle we even understand you.’

 

‘ _Je vie dans France presque toute ma vie_ ,’ said Clayton in French. ‘ _C’est mon héritage, Gabriel!_ ’

 

‘I can’t understand you when you speak completely in French, Agard,’ Gabriel complained.

 

Alex sighed tiredly as both men started bickering about the languages and cultures of the two countries, he wondered if both men would still be here when he returned, though their argument attracted the attention of Giry who after failing to push the two annoying voices out of her mind took matters into her own hands to shut them up. The elder woman went to tug on both men’s ear and pinched them, causing both thief and mercenary to cry out in mercy.

 

‘We are here to see Zeus off, not to listen to this argument again,’ Giry scolded them and refused to let go of their ears while Alex smirked happily and amusingly at the trio. ‘So cease your bad attitudes young men or neither of you will have an ear left.’

 

After a huge of amount of begging and shouting “mercy”, both men finally got their ear back, though they whispered curses at the old lady between them, causing Alex to shake his head exasperatedly at their antics. He wondered how he was able to put up with all of them for even a year.

 

Though their laugh and jokes were soon over and a solemn look was cast over them when the quartermaster of the ship, _Isis_ , called out to him. While Alex had his poker face on, he couldn’t but feel a bit awkward with the whole farewell-business and his allies mirrored his feeling, except Madame Giry. Not that he blamed, he was leaving, for good in a way, he had his affairs organized and prepared, everything he had, other than what he kept for the journey to America, was to share equally among his three comrades. Though his house was given to Clayton, Giry had the jewels that he had received as payment, and Gabriel had the assassination contracts and heist plans.

 

The elder lady’s eyes were brimmed with unshed tears as she went to hug him, unlike the time when Alex had last hugged Ziio, the virus had slowly gotten used to receiving hugs from Giry, so he wasn’t as petrified as he was back then, but it only worked with Giry. The one time Gabriel tried to hug him, the thief spent an entire month to nurse his injured cheek and had locked himself in his house. In Alex’s opinion, he got lucky that he didn’t break his neck or something.

  

Giry removed herself from him and quickly brought out a handkerchief to wipe the tears off the corner of her eyes. Gabriel took his step forward and extended his hand to Alex who shook it light firm grip. The thief grinned before he said, ‘I hope you’ll find the person you seek and return soon. I still have some lads and lasses for you to meet.’

  

‘No thank you,’ Alex replied quickly, causing Gabriel to burst out laughing and clapped his shoulder playfully.

 

‘Still, you do well to remember us, Zeus,’ said Gabriel with a small smile and arms crossed. ‘I don’t want to be forgotten so easily, so send us letters or gifts. Also, know that if you ever needed help, we will be here for you. We will come if you ever needed us, brother.’

 

Alex nodded in thanks as Gabriel let Clayton speak with him, the mercenary simply grasped his shoulder and the virus mirrored the action. There was no need for words to be shared, this small act of friendship and comradeship had already told Alex everything he needed to know. Clayton stepped back in line with Giry and Gabriel at his sides. Alex went to pick up his stuff and boarded the naval ship as crewmen began preparing for their departure, while Alex settled at the side of the ship and watched his friends waving at him. The anchor was up and the ship was slowly moving, Alex waved back at his friend who moved along the ship on the harbour’s bridge.

 

Alex smirked slightly as a motto the Assassins used sounded in his mind. He looked at his friends and shouted, ‘SAFETY AND PEACE, FRIENDS!’

 

*** 

 

**68 days later...**

 

Alex swore and cursed mentally, as he got off of _Isis_ , of all the days he could arrive in Boston, it had to March 5th, the day that marked the Boston Massacre event. Tension and unease were all over the air despite the cold and frosty and people were nervous. Alex paid some men to bring his belongings to the Green Dragon tavern as he began exploring this familiar yet foreign city. The virus was careful in every step he took until he found an empty spot where he climbed onto the rooftop and began his journey through the city.

 

It was at King Street, out sheer luck, that he found the man he was looking for. Alex stared at Haytham who still wore the navy blue getup he had many years ago, but his hair was no longer dark brown, it was completely a dark shade of grey. The virus silently climbed down in an alley and began pushing his way through the crowd as he headed towards the Englishman. Suddenly a gunshot rang in the air, silencing the gathered crowd before one of the Redcoats shouted, ‘Damn you, fire!’

 

The squad of Redcoats fired at the people at random, panic and fear arouse and the crowd began running and shoving, Alex tried his best to reach Haytham, but the man was already leaving in opposite direction of the crowd, watching the man moving further away, Alex felt his blood boiled at the chaos around him and he put all his anger into one shout, ‘HAYTHAM!’

 

Haytham seemed to hear him over the cacophony of loud screams and turned to look at who shouted his name, but before Alex could call out to the man again, a Redcoat came over and slammed the butt of his rifle into his face, yelled to his fellow soldiers, ‘I got the savage! I got the savage! I got the sa-AHHH!’

 

Alex had already slammed his tomahawk into the man’s throat to shut his mouth, but the dead man’s cries had already drawn attention of the Redcoats in the area. The Blacklight virus’ eyes went to look for Haytham, only to find the British having already left, causing to growl in frustration as he began leaving with Redcoats hot on his tail. He made sharp turns here and there, loosing them for a moment as his eyes went to the dreaded leaf wagon. Alex would have begged to whatever god in existence that the wagon wouldn’t crumble under his weight, if he was religious, as he dove into it. He held his breath, not that he had one, as his sense of hearing picked the footsteps of British soldiers around the wagon. When they left, Alex decided to wait for a few more minutes before checking to see in the coast was clear, he shifted among the irritating leaves, wanting to take a look outside when something jumped onto him.

 

Alex had to still himself from morphing his hands to claws as his hands went to grab the shoulders of the person as the Redcoats came back. The virus quickly put his hand over the mouth of whoever was hiding with him, he felt the boy, he was sure it was a boy, froze as the Redcoats were still searching the area. Both man and boy refused to move an inch, even though their position was rather _inconvenient_.

 

Alex relaxed slightly when he couldn’t hear any footsteps and the boy breathed a sigh of relief, he let go of the child and pushed the leaves off him to greet the cold air of the snowy night. Alex looked down to see who was hiding with him and both of them stared at the other in shock.

 

Alex was surprised to see that the person was a Kanien'kehá:ka and the boy seemed equally surprised to see one of his people in this town. The virus knew very well that the Mohawk preferred to keep to themselves, he really didn’t know why someone like him came to the city in times like this.

 

‘ _Who are you?_ ’ Alex asked in fluent Kanien'kehá:ka, he sometimes thought it would get rusty after a decade.

 

‘ _My name is_ _Ratonhnhaké:ton, sir,_ ’ the boy said as he got off of him.

 

Alex’s eyes widened at the name as he stared at the boy more closely, taking in every small details. Yes, he could see it now, the subtle features of Haytham on the boy’s face and Ziio’s dark chocolate eyes. For some reasons, his throat felt as dry as his lips, he hesitantly asked, ‘ _Are you..._ _Kaniehtí:io_ _’s son?_ ’

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton hesitantly answered, ‘ _Yes, I am._ ’

 

Alex was uncertain what had gotten into him, because for the first time in his life and with Dr. Mercer’s adult life added, he intentionally hugged someone without anyone pushing him to do it. This was his two best friends’ son, a son who was named after him, not specifically him, but still, the thought was there. As quickly as he had initiated the hug, he stepped back from the boy, who stunned by his sudden and unexpected action, and coughed nervously. Ratonhnhaké:ton was looking at everywhere but the man standing in front of him.

 

Both were snapped back to reality when the shouts of commands to Redcoats sounded, Alex took the boy’s wrists and pulled him into the shadow with him. A group of three soldiers came into the alley and glued a wanted poster on the wall, Alex’s sharp eyes saw a detailed image of Ratonhnhaké:ton with a reward of ten pounds. The virus scoffed at the reward, he had hunted men and women who were worth more than that. When the soldiers left to stamp a wanted poster at another wall, Alex brought his mouth closed the boy’s ear and whispered urgently, ‘Come with me, I’ll get you to safety.’ 

 

Alex tugged the boy after him as he moved around the alleys, keeping away from the main streets as much as possible as they approached the Green Dragon tavern. He brought Ratonhnhaké:ton to the back of the tavern, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulder, and instructed him, ‘ _Listen to me, Ratonhnhaké:ton. I need you to stay here and keep yourself hidden. I am going to get a room in this tavern, when I reach my room, I will open the window for you to slip in. Until then, stay here and be hidden._ ’ 

 

The boy nodded in understanding and quickly went to hide behind some stack-up boxes. Alex quickly went inside the tavern to greet the female owner nonchalantly and ordered his dinner. Afterwards, he quickly headed to his reserved room with his tray of food, feeling the eyes of some unsavoury characters watching as he ascended the staircase. Alex quietly slipped into his room and locked the door. He quickly went to the window for the Native boy to come in, he whistle a low note as Ziio had taught him a long time ago to signal to their allies to move onward or remain away.

  

Ratonhnhaké:ton got out of the wagon and stealthily climbed the wall to reach Alex’s room.

 

***

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton entered the room with a thank to the older man and studied the room he was in, looking for a quick exit or hiding place if it was needed. In the back of his mind, he wondered who this man was and he still did not understand why he trusted the man. No one had mentioned his mother’s name since the tragedy that destroyed half of his village and took his mother’s life. The Kanien'kehá:ka watched as the man rummaged his baggage looking for something until his eyes caught the tomahawk the man had placed beside him, he went to pick the weapon up to take a closer look, he paused when he spotted the pendant attached to the old and used weapon. It was damaged, but he could still see the Assassin’s crest.

 

‘Bingo!’ the man cried out victoriously as he pulled a jacket and trousers out of the bag. ‘ _These should fit._ ’

 

‘ _Uh..._ ’ Ratonhnhaké:ton sounded as he stared with uncertainty at the article of clothing.

 

‘ _You need to change your clothes. Any bounty hunter can see you miles away with your current ones_ ,’ the stranger explained as he handed him the clothes.

 

‘ _Thank you_ ,’ Ratonhnhaké:ton thanked as he handed back the weapon. ‘ _Are you an Assassin?_ ’

  

The older man paused at his question before he answered, ‘ _You can say that._ ’

 

‘ _Are you here to meet Achilles?_ ’ the boy asked excitedly. He was excited, because this was someone of his clan and an Assassin.

 

‘ _No, I don’t know who this Achilles is_ ,’ the man answered as he put his weapon aside and began fixing the bed before he went back to pull something out of his luggage. ‘ _I come back to see your mother and father. How is Ziio? I saw Haytham left after the massacre. I would like to see them if you can bring me to them._ ’

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s expression darkened at the mention of his mother and father, he tilted his head downward, so that his bangs could hide part of his face as he said sadly, ‘ _Mother is dead since I am four._ ’

 

A deafening silence covered both of them, they were as still and silent as the angelic statues in a graveyard. The stranger approached him and bended down slightly, so that they were face-to-face. The man’s face showed no surprise or sadness as he asked, ‘ _What had happened?_ ’ 

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton felt his breath hitched as bright red flame flashed before his eyes, pain-filling screams filled his ears, his nose picked-up the smell of burned skin and wood, and the word _Ista_ stuck in his dry throat.

 

‘ _Ratonhnhaké:ton!_ ’ At the call of his name, the Kanien'kehá:ka boy was brought back to reality. The older male had his hand on his shoulder, or more specifically the junction between the neck and shoulder. It was strange, he did not felt the fear of someone’s hand being close to his neck, he usually reacted very violently towards such action since he had almost being chocked to death at the age of four by Charles Lee. He found the action _comforting_. 

 

The man sighed tiredly and guided him to the bed. ‘ _You should eat and rest for now. I am sure that it is a tiring day to you._ ’

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton stopped when he was inches away from the bed, he looked over his shoulder to stare at the kind stranger and asked, ‘ _What about you?_ ’

 

‘ _Obviously the floor_ ,’ the man answered and gestured to blanket and pillows. He lightly pushed him to sit on the bed and placed the tray of cool foods on his laps. ‘ _And before you ask, I am not hungry. Eat your food, then change your clothes and go to sleep._ ’

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton blinked owlishly as the man proceeded to pat his head, just like his mother did. His stomach began growling, reminding him that he had ate much since he had arrived in the city, the Native boy picked the spoon and bread. He began his silent meal and devouring everything in record time before he changed into the white jacket and pants.

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton studied the man who now laid on top of the pillows comfortably as he buried himself underneath the thin blanket. Before he drifted to sleep, he recalled he hadn’t asked the stranger his name.

 

‘ _Um, what is your name, sir?_ ’ the Native boy asked.

 

The man sat up and turned to face him, hesitation all over his face, before he answered, ‘ _My Kanien'kehá:ka name is Ratonhnhaké:ton._ ’

 

Dark eyes widened in surprise, finally realizing what his name meant to his mother. He remembered having asked his mother why she had picked this name, she had only told him that it was the same as a man she had once loved, who was as protective and caring as a wolf towards its pack. Actually, his mother spoke of the Ratonhnhaké:ton with so much love and happiness that often he would wonder if this man was his real father instead of Haytham Kenway, Grand Master Templar of the Order and the one who had ordered his men to burn his village to ground and kill his mother.

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton still had questions, but he felt his eyelids grew heavy and his body felt sluggish. Hands came over and tucked the blanket under his chin as a soft gentle voice told him to sleep. He did as the voice told him and entered a deep sleep in which dream of having a real family.

 

***

 

Alex did not need to sleep or eat as much as a human needed to, which was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing was he would be tired or starved to death, but the curse of it was that it gave him too much time to think. Currently, his thoughts revolved around the topic of Ziio’s death, which he had made many theories and none of them were good. So far he theorized that after his departure, Ziio and Haytham had a son, which was the sleeping boy in his room, and then something happened between them and they were separated. He guessed the latter part, because if Ratonhnhaké:ton was raised with Haytham in his life, he would have been suspicious of him with the Assassin’s Crest on his weapon, but instead he was excited and glad to see that he was an _Assassin_. Four years afterward, someone killed Ziio. It had to be murder, judging from the light Post Traumatic Stress Disorder reaction of the boy, and the person who had, theoretically, the biggest chance to be said murderer would be Haytham. Still, it did not make any sense in why the British waited four years to commit this act. 

 

The Blacklight virus racked the achieve of his own memory, trying to find a reason or cause that might drove Haytham to kill Ziio. The Englishman had what he wanted, a visit to the Kanien'kehá:ka’s Sacred Cave. He delved into the one and only Kanien'kehá:ka hunter in his mind and took further study in the markings of the story of Iottsitison. A goddess who came into their world and shaped it for what life might come. She had a hard journey, fraught with great loss and peril. But she believed in her children and what they might achieve. And though she was long gone from the physical world – her eyes still watched over them. Her ears still heard their words. Her hand still guided them. And her love still gave them strength.

  

Alex wondered if there were more to this story, but that was all Ratonhnhaké:ton knew. The virus sighed heavily as he got up, deciding to leave this room to clear his own mind, he quietly jammed the door with his heavy chest, in case someone wanted to intrude the young boy’s sleep. He opened the window and jumped out, leaving a heavy set of footprint on the window’s stool. 

 

His small jump got him a few blocks away from the tavern, from that point, he just began wandering aimlessly around the streets, breathing in the cold weather’s air. The cold helped a bit in reoganizing his thoughts as he planned what he would do after making sure that Ratonhnhaké:ton was somewhere safe. His first thought was to gather thieves, beggars and mercenaries in the area and created a network of information and a small army. He required eyes and ears everywhere to find Haytham. To him, the only way to find out what had happened for the past decade was to find the British and question him for the reason why he had murdered his loved one and sending fake letters of their happiness.

 

Still his plan was easier said than done, it took him at least five years before Gabriel, Giry and Clayton were prepared enough to supply him with information and muscles. 

 

‘Oye! Oye! A criminal stalks the streets!’ Alex stopped in his walk and turned to look at the source of the yelling voice, he spotted a man beside Ratonhnhaké:ton’s wanted poster on the tree. ‘Wanted in connection with the massacre at the Town House! Citizens are advised to call the guards if they see him! Ten pounds to whoever brings this madman to justice!’

  

Alex wondered who paid so much money just to capture or eliminate the young boy, the answer came to him before the Assassin spirits supplied it. _Templars._

 

The virus was about to continue on with his walk when the announcer added something else, ‘Also. A man was believed to be this madman’s accomplice. He goes by the name Zeus.’

 

Alex’s icy blue eyes darted to the direction where a second poster was located at another tree next to Ratonhnhaké:ton’s and it was a perfect replica of his current face with the huge words of “WANTED ALIVE”. The virus did not listen to the rest of the speech and quickly made his leave from the area. He sprinted and jumped back to the tavern where Ratonhnhaké:ton was still soundly when he came through the opened window.

 

Alex stared at Ziio's son sadly. Indirectly speaking, it was his fault that the Kanien'kehá:ka boy was orphaned at four. If he had remained in the village, maybe Ziio and Haytham would still be together and living happily with their son, even if they were separated, he could still be there for his Native friend. Now, everything was too late to change. The Runner went to rest on top of his pillows, eyes closed as he tried to relax and pushed the guilt away until tomorrow.

 

***

 

**Next morning around noon...**

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton followed his mother's friend around the dark alleys and rooftops, the Redcoats were on high alert and were determined to find them. So far a few groups had almost found them, despite the fact that they were dressed in Colonial outfits.

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton, it was still strange for him to call out his own name, seemed to have memorized the troops's pathways, knowing when to move, stop, and hide. Though they still had a problem.

 

They had tried to book a carriage or horses to leave the city by land, but guards had every single one of the stables guarded. Ships were not allowed to leave until the Redcoats found them or gave up.

 

' _Tsk. They are really starting to get on my nerves_ ,' the older Native muttered and Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded in agreement as they watched as the soldiers checked the wagons thoroughly before their owner was allowed to leave.

 

' _What are we going to do?_ ' Ratonhnhaké:ton asked as they were running out of options in how to leave the city without being discovered.

 

The older man stared at the groups that had surrounded the last stable in the city, his face was thoughtful and calculating. He pulled them back into the darkness of the alley they were hidden in.

 

' _Alright_. _I want you to go and began removing some of your wanted posters_ ,' Ratonhnhaké:ton muttered and handed him a small pouch of money. ' _Use the money to bribe some of the town criers. They are easily found in open spaces and they like to shout._ '

 

' _Why?_ ' asked the boy as he took the money. ' _What good will it does?_ '

 

' _With the amount of wanted posters in the city, even if someone is uncertain if we are the wanted criminals, they could just look at the nearest poster to confirm our identity. Removing them will easily damper people's memory and, before we know it, they won't remember our little existence_ ,' the older man explained patiently. ' _Afterwards, we will meet up at the city's north entrance_.' 

 

The young Kanien'kehá:ka nodded in understanding before a perplex expression crossed his face as he asked, ' _What about you?_ '

 

' _I'll be removing my own posters. And I will make a small visit to a print shop where our wanted posters comes from_ ,' the older man answered.

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded in agreement as they parted ways to complete their task.


	8. 07 - Home is Where We will Live

**Home is Where We will Live**

 

**March 6th, 1770**

 

Alex was staring at the squad covering the north entrance of Boston from his spot in a shady alley as the biomass on his back and side slowly assimilated the body of two Redcoats. The Runner, in the blink of an eye, relocated himself on the rooftops, leaving the bloody scene behind as he continued observing the blockade with a critical eye. He had a wonderful _conversation_ with the printer who had changed the details of their face slightly and had already eliminated the groups around the entrance, so all that was needed right now was for Ratonhnhaké:ton to appear.

 

 _Speak of the devil._ Alex glanced at the running teen on the rooftop of the third building next to his position. When Ratonhnhaké:ton was within earshot, Alex tilted his head slightly and stated, ' _Everything is fine I suppose._ '

 

The boy nodded, kneeling next to him, and answered, ' _Yes. People and soldiers took little notice of me after I have done as you ask._ '

 

' _Good, good, good_ ,' the virus muttered as he watched a Redcoat messenger came running to the leader of the squad and leaned forward to hear what they were saying. A small smile was slowly stretched on his lips when he heard the soldiers were ordered to return to one of the fortresses in Boston and abandoned their search on Ratonhnhaké:ton and him.

 

The Runner waited until the last of the squad was out of the normal human peripheral vision before he gestured to Ratonhnhaké:ton to follow him. Both Natives quickly made their way out of the busy city and began their journey to north.

 

To Davenport Homestead.

 

***

 

The bonfire crackled loudly in the silent night as Ratonhnhaké:ton fed it some more dry wood, staring intently into the dancing flames. The journey to Homestead was a quiet and slightly unnerving one, because both of them was uncertain on how to proceed with their unanswered questions and the wall between them was getting thicker by second.

 

The young Native looked over to the man resting on his baggages, he knew the man wasn't asleep and he had his chance to ask about his mother and many other things, but what if the man kept some of the details to himself just like everyone else in his village did after the death of his mother? Ratonhnhaké:ton let out a soundless sigh as he continued feeding the fire and keeping watch of their surrounding. Though he couldn't concentrate on his task and was more occupied with the one single question he wanted to ask above all else. Why did you leave my mother? He had thought of asking how he knew his father and what kind of man his father was, but that man was no father of his, he was a Templar, an enemy to be eliminated. He was an Assassin now, or at least one in-training, and it was his duty to kill Templars and end their plots.

 

' _You know, if you have questions, you can ask._ ' Ratonhnhaké:ton almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden announcement and his eyes immediately darted to the man who now had his stoic face turned to face him.

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton ducked his head and hands together, embarrassment coloured his cheek as he uttered a small apology for disturbing his rest. The elder Ratonhnhaké:ton sat up, one hand rubbing the back of his neck and the other rested on one bended knee, as he said nonchalantly, ' _It's alright, child. I wasn't able to sleep to begin with, so I don't mind talking a bit and judging by the look on your face for the past few hours, you have many questions to ask and you want answer for all of them_.'

 

The young man was about to deny it, but seeing the chance presented itself to him, he decided to take a leap of faith and asked the question that had bothered him for three days and one night, ' _Why did you leave my mother?_ '

 

Silence greeted him as he observed the statue-like perplex expression on his elder before the man answered truthfully, ' _Around thirteen years ago, Kanatahséton was threatened by a British Army General named Edward Braddock, the Bulldog. Your mother and I, mostly your mother, fought for our clan. I simply fought to make sure Ziio gets out of the trouble in one piece. It was then that we met yo–I mean Haytham._ ' The boy gave the man a questioning gaze, but he ignored the sudden halt in his story. ' _HE had saved some of the captured villagers and saw it as a favour we owed him. In a way, it is a small favour. We were ignoring his existence for a time, but Haytham was very persistent in finding us, so that we returned the FAVOUR. He told us the reason he had sought us out. He possessed an amulet with the markings from the Sacred Cave near where the village stood._ '

 

' _Apparently, there was something important within the cave that he would like to take possession of, but whatever it was, we never knew, because its secret was kept tightly locked and well hidden. Seeing that Haytham came out empty-handed with Ziio. I saw that their relationship had blossomed into something beyond friendship. So I let her go and took my leave, I had entrusted Haytham of her safety. A mistake I have made and a responsibility I have abandoned. I had truly believed that they would have a happy life together. I had even threatened Haytham with a death threat if he ever hurt Ziio in any way. My warning falls on deaf ears and your mother ends up dead_ ,' the older Kanien'kehá:ka recounted with more anger and sadness in his voice. He let out a frustrated sigh before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

 

The teen was stunned by the raw emotions the man was displaying, he half expected him to bottle everything under his indifferent mask and let only a small portion of each emotion out. The shock soon wore off and was replaced by a look of realization and understanding. _He really is the protective wolf that guards and cares for those it deemed as its pack. Just as mother has said._

 

' _Is our destination still far?_ ' the elder asked restlessly as he stood up.

 

' _No_ ,' Ratonhnhaké:ton quickly answered as he stood up too. ' _It lies just behind those mountains and a cliff._ '

 

The older male looked in the direction where he pointed, nodding determinedly as he picked up his baggages with renewed vigour and announced, ' _Good, then let's continue on. Forward!_ '

 

' _What? Now?_ ' Ratonhnhaké:ton stuttered out, taking a step towards the leaving Native before halting to snuff out the fire by kicking the snow over it. He caught up the adamant man with a few steps. ' _We can wait for a few more hours for dawn to rise._ '

 

' _No, I need to speak with whoever this Achilles is_ ,' the Native hunter said firmly as he continued moving through the thick snow with a rapid pace that Ratonhnhaké:ton would have thought it was impossible to do with the heavy chest and travel bag on the man. It made him feel like he was a child once more who needed to jump a few steps to catch up to his mother's long steps. ' _And then, I will begin looking for your father. WE have a long overdue DISCUSSION to have._ '

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton flinched at the tone near growling the man had as he helpless trotted after his mother's fuming friend. Maybe this quickened pace was a good thing for him too, because he also had _something_ to say to Achilles.

 

When the sun's face appeared above the high mountains, both Kanien'kehá:kas had arrived in the outskirts of Davenport Homestead. Ratonhnhaké:ton pointed at the distant old mansion and told the elder, ' _That's where Achilles lives._ '

 

The man squinted his eyes for a moment before a scowl appeared on his face as he looked over the cliff and spotted a bundle of pine tree branches with their dry leaves intact. The older Ratonhnhaké:ton gestured at the bundle and asked, ' _Have you ever jumped into those branches?_ '

 

The boy nodded affirmatively and the man asked another question, ' _Do you feel the ground after your jump or is there some branches covering it?_ '

 

' _No, I can still feel them when I land on it_ ,' the young hunter answered.

 

' _Good_ ,' said the man approvingly. ' _You jump first, I'll follow._ '

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded and executed a Leap of Faith as Achilles called it, landing safely into the branches that cushioned his fall and quickly left the bundle for the man to take his jump, but instead of the elder, it was his luggage that had taken the jump, landing with a loud thud. The young Native looked at the top of the cliff to see the elder climbing down instead of jumping.

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, ' _Why didn't you just jump?_ '

 

' _Because it usually ends up with me having a bad back!_ ' the man yelled back as he continued releasing his hold and grabbing another crack or rock underneath, descending a little faster than climbing all the way down.

 

' _Are afraid of heights?_ ' Ratonhnhaké:ton asked incredulously as the man went to retrieve his chest and bag.

 

' _No, I just hate everything that can cushioned my fall_ ,' the elder explained with a huge frown as he slung his bag over his shoulder and tucked the chest under his arm. ' _There's only two results from my landing. Either the wagon that holds leaves breaks or I land on my back on solid ground. Both give me a painful back pain. So I never jump and the handful of time I actually did jump, your mother laughed at me, quite loudly may I add._ '

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton's lips was twitching slightly, trying to hold in the laugh or the smile that was about to split his face at the comical agitation in the man's explanation of his aversion towards the Leap of Faith. Despite the fact that the man was glaring at him with an evil eye, the Native boy couldn't resist in chocking out a laugh before it turned into a ceaseless laughter.

 

The elder's frown deepened as he muttered in annoyance, ' _Har di har har, laugh it up_.'

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton stifled his laugh slightly, but his shoulders still shook with mirth as he listened to the man muttering about him being his mother's son and that he should have expected that he would laugh about it. The teen still wore a smile when they arrived at the mansion, forgetting for a short moment that they each had some important matters to discuss with the old Assassin. At least until he was standing at the front door of the mansion.

 

The Assassin-in-training entered the household, holding the door for his elder before he sought Achilles who was waiting for him in the dining room. When his eyes landed on the calm Assassin who pleasantly greeted him, Ratonhnhaké:ton felt the anger he felt back at Boston surged and said accusingly, 'You left me in Boston!'

 

'The training we've done here is all well and good, but experience is a better teacher by far,' Achilles explained patiently, annoying the youngster further with his passiveness.

 

'What of my father?' Ratonhnhaké:ton demanded.

 

'Into the wind, I'm afraid,' Achilles answered.

 

The news further displeased the Kanien'kehá:ka as he urgently yelled, 'We have to find him.'

 

'And we will...' the old Mentor Assassin placated. 'AFTER the house has been repaired.'

 

'But he's out there plotting who knows what...' the Native boy stated insistingly as he gestured outside to emphasized his point.

 

' _Calm,_ _Ratonhnhaké:ton_.' The Assassin-in-training turned to stare at his mother's friend who was leaning on his back against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and his face was filled with seriousness. ' _While I want to find Haytham as much as you do. Rushing out blindly will not help us and you still require much trainings before your skills stand equal to that of the Templar._ '

 

Achilles frozen on his spot, eyes narrowing at the speaker behind him as he whispered harshly, 'Who is that man, Connor?'

 

' _But if we don't stop him, more people will come to harm_ ,' the Kanien'kehá:ka said to his elder, hoping that he would side with him instead of the old man and ignoring the handicapped man's demands. The elder levelled him a look that told him to listen to him before speaking again, which the teen reluctantly did as he gave the man a nod to let him continued with his reasonings.

 

' _You are still in training, Ratonhnhaké:ton. I know Haytham's skills, I have seen them in action myself and your current equipment and skills are no match against him_ ,' said the older Native and held a hand up before the teen could protest. ' _Also, you haven't earn or train with the hidden blades yet. So you are not a true Assassin yet, but when you achieve the title of Master Assassin, I will not hold you back. Until then, you need to continue with your trainings._ '

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton now wore a downcast look as he listened to the reasons and flinched when the man gently, as if he would disappear if he put the slightest force in his touch, placed his hand over his shoulder. He heard a tired sigh before the older Ratonhnhaké:ton promised, ' _Any information I find on Haytham or his Templars, you'll be the first person I will inform._ '

 

The boy's mood brightened slightly at the promise before it turned neutral again at the stern voice. ' _Only. And_ ONLY _. After you have complete your trainings, shall I deem you ready to face the Templar Order. Do you understand, Ratonhnhaké:ton?_ '

 

While the young man wanted to begin searching for his mother's murderers, he knew that he still required many months and years of training to match his father's or even his elder's level of skills. So Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded in agreement to the man's conditions instead of arguing.

 

The stern face soon melted into one of contentment as the man went to pat his head and this time ruffled his hair, which Ratonhnhaké:ton reacted by pushing the offending hand off of him, but unlike his previous encounters with strangers' touch, he didn't animalistically snarl or silently glare at person and tried to keep himself from ending their lives on the spot. He smiled and the smile on the other grew.

 

Though their light atmosphere was broken by the old Mentor Assassin who had thwacked the Assassin-in-training with his walking cane as he demanded, louder this time, 'I said. WHO IS THIS MAN, CONNOR?'

 

The teenager held the throbbing back of his head as he turned to face his mentor and was about to introduce his clan member, but the elder beat him to it and, with a dip from his tricorn hat and left hand over his heart and ring finger folded, presented himself, 'My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton, Connor's clan brother, but you may call me Iskandar, Achilles Davenport, Master Assassin of the Colonial Brotherhood.'

 

'He is also an Assassin, Achilles,' Connor quickly added when he saw doubts clouding the old man's face.

 

'And what proof does he have that he is an Assassin?' Achilles questioned, not believing in his words. 'Where is his hidden blade, the most important weapon of an Assassin, Connor? Or did you just believe him because he says so?'

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned at the underlined accusation about his foolishness and the fact that his clan brother could be a spy for the enemy. Protectiveness and anger reached a new level as he hissed out, 'Don't you dare call him a liar, Achilles. He will never be allied with my FATHER or HIS Templars. He has the Assassin's crest tied to his tomahawk.'

 

Connor jerked back when he felt a calming hand was placed on his shoulder and looked at his elder with a look that told him volumes of his desire to continue arguing with the old man.

 

'Perhaps it is better if I explain to Achilles,' the older Ratonhnhaké:ton suggested with a charismatic smile. The young Kanien'kehá:ka hesitated for a moment before he reluctantly let the older man talked to Achilles. 'Thank you.'

 

The old Colonial Assassin continued to stare at the man with suspicion, but the Kanien'kehá:ka was unaffected by the man's stare and kept his confident smile on as he began his explanation. 'As I have said, my Native name is Ratonhnhaké:ton just like as Connor's and my English one is Iskandar. I am part of your apprentice's Mohawk clan living in the Frontier. Fourteen years ago, I have decided to explore the outside world and went to England, where I have met the Assassins and befriended them. Later I have join the Assassin's Order. I am one of the few Assassins having survive the purge in London and I have sought refuge in neighbouring countries until I have collected enough money to journey back to here. As for the reason why I don't have a hidden blade, it was damaged beyond repair during an ambush by the Templars. My main reasons for coming back are to see my friends, Kaniehtí:io and Haytham Kenway.' The frown deepened on the old man's face. 'My fellow Assassins deemed the information of Kenway being a Templar to be sensitive, which I have discovered after the purge. Though I only intend to meet Haytham as a friend, not an Assassin. I...'

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton glanced Connor, silently asking if he should continue. The young Assassin nodded, giving permission to his elder to continue. 'I have only recently discovered Haytham's betrayal and Ziio's death from Connor. This information brings both personal and duty reasons here. For now, I am not certain it is in my best interest to hunt down the Templars who had any connection with Kenway. So I would like to aid Connor in his trainings towards the rank of Master Assassin, Mentor Achilles Davenport.'

 

Connor looked at Achilles expectantly, hoping that the old man would allow Ratonhnhaké:ton to train him. Not that his trainings with Achilles was a problem, but he truly wished to study under his elder who at least understood part of the reasons why he wanted to become an Assassin and their goal was more or less mutual.

 

The old Assassin's eyes roamed from one Native to the other before he let out a tired sigh and took a wooden box on the table that bore the Assassin's symbol. He looked at Connor with a serious face as he handed him the box and said dejectedly, 'Then you are going to need THESE for the battles against the Templars.'

 

The Native boy arched an eyebrow at the Assassin's words before he opened the box and what lay inside had rendered him completely speechless. Two well-kept and polished hidden blades. He looked between the content of the box and Achilles, feeling a smile making its way on his lips. Connor had thought that the old man would take another year before he was allowed to wield these weapons.

 

'Go on,' said Achilles as he shifted on his seat with his black hat hiding his face. 'Before I change my mind.'

 

Connor hurriedly strapped the weapons on and a great sense pride washed over him as he admired them. He looked over his shoulder to see Ratonhnhaké:ton, still leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed, with a proud and a bit fatherly-like smile on him. It was a perfect and memorable moment in his life.

 

And reality returned by a few muffled knocks.

 

While Alex was smiling on the outside, he was scowling on the inside at the Assassins. In an indirectly and totally impulsive way, he had stepped into this eternal war and the Assassins behind his mental doors were worse than ever with their constant naggings. It was the Fourth of July in there, many of them were reminiscing their own trainings like old veterans and some were planning and reporting the best courses of training for the Native boy. The only one who was actually quiet in there was Assassin who remained a mute in his hive mind. Alex wanted the rest of the London Brotherhood to shut up for a second, so that he could form his own timetable for Ratonhnhaké:ton's trainings and his own man hunting.

 

 _I need a distraction or I'll tear something pieces._ Alex thought miserably while he kept his smiling poker face on. Not that it wasn't genuine, he was sincerely proud of the fact that the old Mentor Assassin gave the boy the hidden blades and Ratonhnhaké:ton's prideful smile, but with the non-stop talking in the back of his mind, a simple smile was a little difficult to maintain.

 

As if God, for once that cruel bastard actually listened, heard his wish, a few knocks on the window and a muffled cry for help sounded outside, drawing the house's occupants to stare out of the window to see a bearded man hammering the glass in panic. Ratonhnhaké:ton was the first to act as he went outside with him following, it was better than staying in the house and faced the old man's, bordering creepy, stare.

 

'You! Sir, please! Help! He's going to die!' the stranger shouted them hurriedly, but he quickly turned and began moving away. 'There's no time! Please come!'

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton, with question, followed the man while Alex took a small second, or seconds, of hesitation, because saving people wasn't his forte. The last (three?) times he did, he got slapped by Greene, he fought MOTHER to rescue his sister and he got caught in a nuclear explosion to save Manhattan. So it was not possible for him NOT to hesitate in saving someone's life. Still, he better keep an eye on the boy.

 

All three of them began running, but as they approached the river, Alex was mentally chanting a mantra. _Please tell me that we are not heading towards the river!_

 

Alex mentally groaned when they reached the shore. _We are..._

 

'Down there! He's just passed under the bridge!' the stranger shouted urgently as he pointed a redhead holding onto a lumber while shouting for help and the fact that he couldn't swim.

 

Alex caught Ratonhnhaké:ton's shirt before the boy jumped into the water and quickly told him, 'You won't catch him in time if you jump into the water.' He pointed at the rocks and fallen trees alongside the river. 'Use them to catch up to the man.'

 

The boy nodded and did as he was instructed, he caught the drowning man before they got too close to current of the waterfall and dragged the man to shore. The almost-drowned man was coughing every drop of water he seemed to have swallowed while Ratonhnhaké:ton was breathing heavily as Alex draped his coat over the young Assassin's shivering shoulders. While the Kanien'kehá:kas were adapted to the cold climate, he did not wish Connor to catch a cold or hypothermia.

 

The bearded man came over to look at his friend before he turned towards Connor, taking the boy by his arm and pulling him, as he said, 'What this knob-end is trying to say is he's forever in your debt, sir.'

 

'Who you callin' a knob-end?' the nearly-drown man asked indignantly as he coughed some more.

 

'You,' the bearded man answered as he went to pick him up. 'Because you are one.'

 

'What were you doing on those logs?' Connor asked curiously.

 

Alex beat the beard man in answering the boy's question. 'They are woodcutters, Connor. They harvest and transport trees that are later processed into forest products that are used in constructions or simple furniture like chairs and tables. It is one of the dangers in the transportation process, some men might got their limb crushed because of the large number of logs or drown when there are too few.'

 

'We've got the camp set up a few rods off of here, as we're cuttin' timber. We're hoping to open a mill in the area,' the bearded man explained and gestured up at the cliff.

 

'There is a good place not far from the manor on the hill where I am staying,' Connor suggested with a small smile.

 

'Ha! I like you already,' the bearded man said with a small laugh. 'We'll have a look.'

 

Both lumberjacks left the river to check at the spot near the mansion, Alex leaned close to Ratonhnhaké:ton and playfully asked in Kanien'kehá:ka, ' _How come I didn't know you are an opportunist?_ '

 

' _Huh?_ ' Connor sounded with a questioning look on his face, all innocent and naïve.

 

Alex chuckled at the sight as he rubbed the boy's messy hair affectionately before he headed after the woodcutters. ' _Come on, we better tell Achilles that we got the wood for the reconstruction of the manor. We have lots of work to do._ '

 

*******

 

**A few months later...**

 

**August 13th, 1770. Midnight...**

 

_My dearest friends,_

 

_I fear that my return to my homeland is neither a joyful one nor good. It is chaos in the New World and I have found more unpleasant news than I wish to hear, but denying it will not change the fact that my childhood friend is dead, murdered at the hands of her lover's lackeys from what I get from her son. Ah... Giry, if you have seen the boy, I think you would fuss over him more than I am right now. He has left his people to seek the help of an Assassin, yes the Assassins we have met. Connor, that's his English name, says that a spirit told him that he must become an Assassin to protect his village, but I see nothing beneficial in his quest to defend his people and bring justice on his mother's murderers. I am afraid that the trauma of witnessing his mother's death and some other unknown and unpleasant experience under Kenway's men has left scars that would not heal even if he kills them all._

 

_I should be glad that the boy trusts me and does not doubt me as others would. Many of my clan brothers whisper bad things behind my back when I went back to Kanatahséton, Connor ignored them and defended me. He and the clan mother are the only two who haven't blamed me for leaving the village. I know very well that I will not find aid in my fellow brothers, so I try to contact the unsavory characters in town. You won't believe it, Gabriel. The thieves in Boston are worse than when you have fallen from glory and their skills are third-rate and unpolished. None of them have any desire to do a good heist, they just want to remain invisible in the city. Mercenaries are welcomed in the British army and they thrive better among the greedy and cruel superiors than on their own, so no help can be found there. There are many orphans in the city, but a few coins is enough to buy their loyalty. I hesitate in trusting the homeless children, for they provide any information and perform any order without question. Their sole desire is a stable current of money that could provide shelter and food for them, something I can not offer with my limited resources. And Kenway has smeared my name, I am currently a wanted man._

 

_In the end, my quest to gather allies and ears failed. I have to count on my own senses and skills to find my target. But, better safe than sorry, I would like to ask all three of you to provide me with a helper._

 

_Giry, if possible, send an understudy or a worker who has learned your skills in organizing financial records and had patience with children, I plan to open an orphanage here where I can control the information and the blind eye of the orphans._

 

_Gabriel, I want someone whom you trust and who can ACTUALLY fight and lead a group if need to. I am going to place him into the core of the operations of the thieves living in Boston. By befriending them and, perhaps, earn their respect, I will later have eyes over every city._

 

_Clayton, I am uncertain what to ask of you, but after careful consideration, I find that I will need someone to act on my behalf. A fighter who can be my double when meeting interested parties. In other words, a fake. If my plans run smoothly, I will have an entire secret network of people working for me and your man will be believed by others to be the leader of this secret organization._

 

_If you have found the men or women I need, tell them to head for a local tavern in Boston called the Green Dragon. I will be there for a while on personal matters. I hope none of you have forgotten my face, but if they are uncertain of who is me, then began reciting this passage from the bible. Or mark it on the table or something._

 

"My name is Legion, for we are many. _" Gospel of Mark, chapter five, verse nine._

 

_I will end my letter here and hope that it reaches you safely._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Your Great Patron_

 

Alex folded the letter neatly, placing it within two different enveloped that are sealed with a wax seal that bore an intricate jagged letter Z. He placed it in the pocket of his coat as he let out a tired sigh and stared out of the window of his room.


	9. 08 - Many Meetings

**Many Meetings**

 

**April 20th, 1772...**

 

Alex nursed his tasteless drink as he waited patiently for the contacts his three friends would provide him with. Personally, he really wished Gabriel, Giry and Clayton were the ones coming to help him establish his hold in America. He really feared that whoever his friends sent would lead him to eventually strangle one of them, because it took him a while to get use to the old madam, the idiotic thief and bilingual mercenary.

 

Giry was his unofficial surrogate mother during his time in London, compared to Dr. Mercer's drunken mother, the madam was the perfect image of a mother. He had hard time imagining a _woman_ having the same qualities. He had nothing against the opposite sex, but after the Karen Parker incident, he had reservations towards the females in general unless they were old grannies. Gabriel was the troublemaker, who could easily bring both the bad and good kind of excitement under the roof, but it was never boring around the man and he provided the best distractions. Of course, if Gabriel was here, he had to keep a constant watch over Connor, because there were only two results if the thief was here with the Assassin: Connor's troubles triple or the boy was in danger of losing his virginity. Clayton was the simpler and plainer of the trio, but the conversations he made were, sadly for his part, hilarious to others. Still, it was amusing teaching English to the Frenchman. The good thing about the man was his loyalty towards others, he was responsible and he was a quick-learner.

 

If someone asked, he would deny that he missed his three partners in crime, but after six months with one old man on the hill, two lumberjacks who spent more time beating and arguing with each other than chopping trees, a melancholic carpenter and a drunken quartermaster, it was driving him crazy! It was also difficult to leave without one of them looking for him for one reason or another. Only Ratonhnhaké:ton, Godfrey's wife Catherine and Terry's wife Diana did not question his comings and goings. The young Assassin trusted him and his search on his father's whereabouts, Catherine simply did not care what he did as long as he did not bring trouble home and Diana acted very much like a doctor who warned their patient about certain things, but if they ignored her warnings and got injured, she took care of them with a few more advices. In a shorter sentence, it is five against four and he was under a 24 hours surveillance and house arrest.

 

It took him ages to finally find an excuse to leave Homestead without being too sneaky about it. He was telling part of the truth, he was going to buy some supplies for Homestead, but he just left out the fact that he was meeting some friends. The supplies were rations for the ship, the _Aquila_. His mind slowly drifted back to the day he and Connor had found the _Aquila_ and its quartermaster.

 

***

 

**Around six months ago...**

 

Alex, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Achilles stood outside of the workshop that Godfrey and Terry had recently built. The renovation of the manor was still far from completion, but they had the materials at the very least.

 

'I'll miss the peace and quiet. But we can certainly use the wood,' Achilles remarked as they looked at the logs of different trees scattered around the house like the mess a child created with his toys.

 

'The manor needs a lot of work,' Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed.

 

'That. And others things,' Achilles said as he began leaving the lumberjacks' home. 'Meet me at the small shack by the shoreline when you have time. There's something else you need to see.'

 

'And what's that?' Alex asked tiredly. He doubted that whatever the old man was going to show them would be great. In fact, he was certain there was going to be more works involved, he would bet his remaining pocketmoney on it.

 

'An... asset.' The way Achilles paused in his answer already solidified his belief in his guess.

 

After saving a carpenter from some bandits, both he and Connor made their way to the shack where Achilles stood waiting for them. The young Assassin went to knock the door where someone was drunkenly raving about some old sea stories whatnot, the slurring tone and the heavy smell of alcohol brought back an unpleasant memories of Dr. Mercer. In Alex's mind, he saw through the young doctor's eyes, a woman with messy long hair, baggy eyes and ruffled clothes opened the door of a house that was covered in a thick layer of dust. He could hear the tell-tale clinking sound of bottles filled with the addictive liquid his so-called mother liked as he glared at the woman's back while he held his sister's tiny and fragile hand tighter.

 

He was brought back to reality by the creaking noise the door made as it was opened by Connor who peered his head in to look for the owner of the shack with Alex leaning to the side slightly to see the interior of the small cabin. Both of them got an air-full of what a brewery smelled like when it was on fire and an ear-full from the shack's inhabitant. 'Said 'go way' boy. D'ya not speak the King's English?'

 

Unimpressed by the man's insult or his manner, Connor just threw the door wide open to let some fresh into the stale-aired home of the old bearded man who looked to be in his late fifties and wore a discoloured trench coat and yellowed British clothes. Personally, Alex wanted to ask if they could just leave the trash in here and actually looked for the asset they needed somewhere else, but it might be Dr. Mercer's personal experience with an alcoholic clouding his judgement.

 

'Oh, I didn't see you there, old man. I'd of set my home in order if I'd known you'd be callin',' said the man when Achilles stepped in front of the opened door. Alex doubted that the man had the ability to clean after himself as he went to stand beside Ratonhnhaké:ton who had covered his nose with one finger to prevent himself from inhaling more of the stinking drunken air, grimacing when he found that he could still breath in the disgusting air.

 

'This boy's name is Connor and the man next to him is Iskandar. They're here to restore the property,' Achilles said, not even bother by the alcohol lingering in the air like an old dirty stain that wouldn't leave no matter how many times one scrubbed it.

 

'Restore? RESTORE!' the drunk repeated as if he had just waked up, but when the word sunk in, his manner took a 180 degree turn. 'Pardon my manners!'

 

He, unsteadily, went outside with the bottle of rum in his hand as he shakily pointed at... a destroyed and fallen ship in the bay that looked someone just dragged it out of the bottom of the ocean to see if it was worth something to a museum. _God! Do we need to fix everything that should have been recycled decades ago?_

 

'She's still the fastest in the Atlantic – sure she needs some attention... minor things mostly, but with a little affection she'll fly again,' the drunk told then boastfully.

 

Alex was unimpressed and was ready to take a bucket full of cold water to _help_ clear the old sailor's mind a bit. Ratonhnhaké:ton was just confused by the man's words and asked, 'Who is 'she'?'

 

The question caused the sailor to sputter indignantly as he shouted, 'WHO is SHE? Why the Aquila, boy! The Ghost of the North Seas!'

 

'The boat?' Ratonhnhaké:ton asked as he gesture to the downed ship. Alex took hold of the boy and pulled him back an arm-length, the last two times he had been onboard of a ship, none of the sailors, quartermasters or captains liked to hear someone referred to their ship as a boat.

 

'b–b... a BOAT?' the man repeated the word angrily as he slowly turned to face the Native boy while Alex instinctively went to cover Connor with his half of his body. 'She's a SHIP, boy, and make no mistake about it!' He directed his attention to the handicapped old man. 'I thought you brought him here to restore order! I reckon he's the greenest thing on the frontier!'

 

'Connor, meet me back at the manor when both of you have finished here,' Achilles ordered as he turned and left them with the drunk. Alex's opinion on the old man was turning sour and he wondered if he could consume him without getting into any trouble. The answer came with the image of Giry who had one arm resting on her waist and one hand up as she put on the motherly scowling face. _Zeus, you are not going to kill anyone because you find them annoying._

 

That speech did happen, that was when Gabriel, Clayton and he went to a tavern to celebrate the mercenary's first successful job. It ended similar to what had happened back at Wright Tavern, around 15 years ago, but he was still punching someone's face. Giry came in and saw the disaster he and his pals left. The old lady could really make them feel like children and had forced them to face the wall for five hours with the other naughty children giggling at them. The three of them learned to never get into any kind of trouble when Giry was around, so they brought trouble to other cities' taverns.

 

Still, if Giry was here and she found what he was going to do, he would never hear the end of it. Alex faced the drunken sailor and asked, 'Your dear _Aquila_ is going to need lots of repairs. You able?'

 

'SHE does need work,' the sailor agreed, emphasizing on the _she_ as he went to scowl at Ratonhnhaké:ton. 'A ship is a 'she', boy – and yes I can refit her but I'm lacking in the proper supplies. Some... Some quality timber would help me get started.'

 

'I can see to that,' Connor volunteered. 'How long before it...' A pointed look from the old sailor. 'SHE is able to sail again?'

 

'Just get me the lumber, boy and I'll raise a crew,' the drunk slurred as he slid against the wooden wall of his shack and began drinking again.

 

Both Native shook their head negatively at the sight.

 

It was a real miracle for Robert Faulkner the drunk to actually stay sober enough to get the manpower and crew needed for the _Aquila_. He spent months training Ratonhnhaké:ton in the art of assassination and free-run, but the boy trainings usually focus on training to catch him off-guard, because if he could catched him, the dreaded and enhanced virus mass murderer, then Ratonhnhaké:ton was skilled enough to face an entire army of Templars trained with the skill of an Assassin. Sadly for Connor and happily for him, the Kanien'kehá:ka was still far from being the hunter on the top of the food chain and that meant he would not confront his father any time soon. Inwardly, Alex preferred that the boy never met his parent. Part of the reason was that Connor might perceived him as a monster who had slaughtered his English brothers if Kenway revealed that little secret of his and the other was that the situation might turned into a complicated one that would prevent him from exacting revenge on Haytham.

 

Alex sighed once more as he dumped the rest of his drink down his throat, hoping that the action might dull part of his train of thought. He was readied for another round when someone behind him commented, 'Really? My dear patron, have the New World been so cruel to you that you have drink these tasteless water?'

 

The virus froze at the familiar voice. He turned to stare at the speaker, hardly believing what he was seeing as he switched his gaze between staring at the two persons who weren't supposed to be here and the empty mug as he wondered if someone spiked his drinks. His mind supplied that it was impossible, because he did not have a nervous system, therefore hallucinated poisons and drugs weren't as effective on him as they did to a normal human being.

 

Giry wore a simple blue dress like usual and her white hair tied into a small bun, was she that frail-looking when he had left London? Alex did not recall the madam being so old before. Gabriel was standing next to her, his hair had streaks of grey covering the side, and he wore his usual Robin Hood clothes without the weapons. Both of them were smiling at him. Actually, only Giry was smiling, Gabriel was grinning as he said with opened arms, 'Surprise!'

 

The only response the master thief received was a flick on the forehead, a painful one. Gabriel covered his throbbing forehead with one hand as he demanded, 'What was that for?'

 

'Sorry,' Alex replied, not sounding sorry at all. 'I am just making sure that I haven't gone mad yet.'

 

'Nope, you have not, son,' Giry said as she went to hug him. 'It is so good to see unharmed and well.'

 

Alex was a bit speechless for a moment, because Giry and Gabriel's arrival was still a shock to him. He expected some strangers that his friends sent him, not seeing two of his three accomplices here, it was a wonder he wasn't shocked.

 

'Why are you guys here? I thought both of you are busy in London,' Alex said as he looked between the elder lady and young man.

 

'Well, you did ask someone who is capable of fighting and leading,' Gabriel said suavely. 'I think I am the only one with those qualities you seek.'

 

The virus rolled his eyes at the narcissistic behaviour before he turned his gaze to Giry who shared the same look as he was before she answered, 'My doctor suggests that I spend some time at the countryside and I want to leave the city's life for a very long time. Spending time with the nobles is tiring, my dear.'

 

The Runner nodded in agreement, the few times he was actually in one of the madam's parties, he was readied to demolish the entire building to crush those guests who kept looking at him as if he was an exotic animal or a piece of meat. He dropped a few coins on the counter as he gestured at the door to his friends. Their conversation was better for outside and he still needed to get the supplies.

 

'Why didn't you tell me you are coming? I would have had prepared a better place for both of you,' Alex started when they were outside.

 

'You don't need to worry, my boy,' Giry replied as she patted his shoulder gently. 'We don't need to live in a castle. A small room is more than enough.'

 

'Well, I wouldn't mind living in a castle,' the master thief mused and got a slap on the back of his head for his cheek. 'What? It would have been great to live in a perfumed room, bowls of snack wherever I stand, silky clothes and comfortable furniture. At least, it will be better than my old nest.'

 

Alex shook his head at the banter that started between the old woman and young man, but he couldn't stop his lips from twitching upward into a smirk. It had been too long for him. Inwardly, he thanked whatever deities there were out there for bringing some of his friends to him.

 

***

 

**A few days later...**

**April 27th, 1772...**

 

Connor was sitting cross-legged against the balcony of the manor as he wrote on the journal that Ratonhnhaké:ton had been given to him as a birthday present. He was at lost when he had received until his elder explained to him that a birthday present was a gift that one gave to someone they cared about dearly to celebrate his or her day of birth, they were often from parents and friends. Ever since he had received it, he kept on writing his thoughts and the events that he deemed important. The young Assassin was grateful for his first present he ever received and happy that his mother's friend cared for him as if he was his own flesh and blood. Connor dipped his quill into the inkpot as he began writing.

 

_Time passed quickly after that – my days a blur of study, training, and work. What little free time Achilles allowed me was spent learning about the Templars. About Charles Lee and my father. I longed to confront them – to put an end to their schemes – to ensure my people would remain untroubled and free. But I knew, as much as Ratonhnhaké:ton often reminds me, it was too soon. That to approach them now would see me killed. All my work would be for nothing... Patience. Restraint. These proved the most difficult subject for me. But in time I mastered them as well with my elder's help, he reminded me of my people's teaching and the skill of a hunter, helping to find similarities between the hunter's skill and that of an Assassin. Fishing to practice my patience. Catching him off guard to learn restraint. All too soon. Days became months. Months became years. And as my skills and knowledge grew, so too did I…_

 

The Kanien'kehá:ka paused in his writing as he heard a neigh sounded in the air. He gently placed his journal aside and closed the inkpot as he turned in time to spot a carriage from afar with Iskandar as its driver approaching the manor. Excitement coursed his veins as he realized that Ratonhnhaké:ton had returned from his trip to Boston with the supplies Faulkner asked. Connor jumped over the balcony and landed softly on the ground, running towards the front of the manor to welcome his elder.

 

' _Welcome back, elder!_ ' Connor greeted the older Kanien'kehá:ka happily in their mother tongue.

 

The man smiled lightly at the welcome and replied, ' _Yes, it is good to be back._ '

 

Iskandar got off of the carriage and went to open the side door, holding his arm out for someone. Connor tilted his head to the side to see who was leaving the coach. It was an old lady whose was as aged as the clan mother was, with bright and youthful blue eyes, and grey snowy white hair tied to a bun. She thanked Iskandar as she descended the few steps of the carriage elegantly, still holding onto his elder's forearm. The person following the old woman was a man with brown shaggy hair, faint stubble on his chin, and mischievous dark eyes. His clothes looked almost like that of an Assassin, but in black and dark green as its main colours.

 

The older Kanien'kehá:ka looked back at him and presented the two strangers with a small smile, 'Allow me to present my two friends from England, Madam Giry and Gabriel.'

 

The lady smiled pleasantly as she nodded in greeting and said, 'You must be Connor, Iskandar told us so much about you on our way here.'

 

The woman gave him the impression of a kind and gentle mother, but the man...

 

'Ooh, the boy is much more handsome than you said, my dear patron,' Gabriel said seductively with his face inches from his. 'And cute when he blushes.'

 

Connor couldn't stop the red from spreading over his cheeks as he took a step back and stuttered, 'Wh–hat? WHAT?'

 

The man was soon pulled back by an angry Iskandar, who looked more furious than he had ever seen him, fists clenched in a painful grip on the man's collar as he told the man threateningly, 'This is a one time warning, Gabriel. So listen carefully. Connor is my son.' The young Kanien'kehá:ka's eyes widened at the possessiveness of the word and the word itself. 'I will not tolerate you trying to seduce him, bed him or touch him in any inappropriate way. Do I make myself clear?'

 

'Oh? I haven't seen this side of you before,' Gabriel purred slightly as he closed the distance between his face and that of Iskandar until they almost touching each other's lips. 'Are you jea– OUCH!'

 

Connor blinked in surprise as he looked at the elderly woman who had fingers holding onto one of the man's ears smiled all motherly-like as she apologized, 'Please forgive Gabriel here, he never learns to control his impulsiveness. If you don't mind, WE need to meet with the owner of the land and asked if he doesn't mind us living here for a few days until we found somewhere else to rest.'

 

The Kanien'kehá:ka Assassin looked between the smiling lady and the current begging pervert as he pointed at the manor uncertainly as he answered, 'Achilles is in the living room, last room on the left.'

 

The old lady happily thanked him as she tugged on Gabriel's ear and led him inside like a dog on a leash. The young Assassin shared an awkward look with his elder as he hesitantly asked, 'Do they always...?' He feebly gestured to the door where the duo had disappeared into.

 

'Only when Gabriel is causing trouble,' Ratonhnhaké:ton answered embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck. 'Come on, let's bring these supplies to Faulkner before he began hollering at us from the bay.'

 

Connor nodded in agreement, but they first removed the baggages of Giry and Gabriel and left by the door before they rode towards the small port that was recently built along with the repairing _Aquila_. When they reached the shore, sailors were running and climbing around the ship, some saw them and hurriedly went to retrieve the boxes of supplies as he went to removed the horses' harness and brought them to a nearby stable where a young stable boy came and took the agitated and tired horses. Ratonhnhaké:ton was looking at the ship with doubt as Connor joined his side.

 

'Come aboard and feast your eyes, mates!' the old sober quartermaster shouted from the ship, gesturing them to come aboard the _Aquila_.

 

Connor was the first to go, but he took just one step on the wooden board before Faulkner shouted negatively and gestured at him to back off, 'No no no no, not the left foot! Never the left foot. Horrible luck. Step with your right foot first.'

 

The Native spared a questioning glance back at Ratonhnhaké:ton who rolled his eyes at the worry in the man's voice and shrugged his shoulders. Connor took the first step with his right foot, which pleased the quartermaster greatly as he went aboard with his elder following him. The young Assassin went to shake of the wood to test their sturdiness before he looked back to see the old sailor's look that demanded if he found any imperfection and said uncertainly, 'She is... solid.'

 

'Aye. Weatherly and sleek. She'll fetch 12 knots in a stiff gale, ne'er a ship from here to Singapore can outrun her on her best day,' Faulkner boasted as he clapped him on the shoulder. 'Wha'dya say we take her out and show you what she can do first hand.'

 

'What?' Connor heard the ever-seemingly distant voice of his elder.

 

'Where would we go?' Connor asked for his curiosity about the ship's ability piqued now that it was in a far better shape than the first time he had laid eye on it... _her_...

 

'As it happens she still needs guns and the officers to command them. We'll launch straight away,' the quartermaster answered as he clapped him on the shoulder again 'Don't worry, lad, I'll make sure you and your friend sprout good sea legs.'

 

'That will never happened.' Connor turned to see Ratonhnhaké:ton muttering darkly and eyeing the water below with the same venomous gaze he had sent to Gabriel minutes ago. 'Not over my dead body, it won't.'

 

' _Do not worry so, elder_ ,' the young Native said with a small smile. ' _It's just a small journey. I am sure there's nothing to worry about._ '

 

The older Kanien'kehá:ka sighed, ' _I hope so._ '

 

***

 

**One week and two days later...**

 

Connor was on top of the main mast, feeling the wind of the sea, with his elder beside him, but strangely, since they had began sailing, the older Kanien'kehá:ka had took the crow's nest as his territory and had been adamant in his choice of sleeping quarters. Faulkner had been yelling at the elder every hour whenever he saw that he was not on the crow's nest and was walking around the sails. The young Assassin decided to see if it was time for his lesson in piloting the _Aquila_ and climbed down to the deck.

 

'Come on, lad! No time like the present to teach you!' Faulkner said insistingly as he kept his hand on the wheel. The young Assassin paused, a few away from the wheel. 'Come on, come on! She won't bite!'

 

The Assassin-in-training carefully took hold of the wheel as he listened to the detailed instructions from the quartermaster and before he knew it, he was no longer afraid in the wind's sudden blows or rocks that appeared on the water, but once in while he would spare a glance up at the main mast where Ratonhnhaké:ton kept his silence, worried that something was wrong with the experienced Assassin. The _Aquila_ and her crew safely reached Martha's Vineyard, a small port town.

 

'Drop anchor,' Faulkner ordered the men before he turned his attention to him. 'We'll go ashore, buy our guns and find our officers.'

 

Connor nodded in affirmation as he went to look at his elder again, wondering why the man was so silent and distant since their journey started. The young Assassin quickly climbed up the mast until he reached the top and he softly asked his elder, ' _Is something wrong?_ '

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton turned and greeted with an unease smile as he replied, ' _I am fine, child. Perfectly fine, but I think I need stretched my legs a bit on land. You and Faulkner go ahead, I'll leave with the men with the boat that would later carry the cannons._ '

 

The younger Assassin was hesitant in leaving his elder when he looked like he had been forced to eat something distasteful and was trying his best not to show his true thoughts. He went to hold the man's shoulder gently as he said, ' _If you are not fine, then go rest in my room._ '

 

The elder kept wearing that weak smile as he replied, ' _Don't worry, I will join you soon enough._ '

 

' _Alright_ ,' Connor muttered defeatedly as he left Ratonhnhaké:ton on the mast.

 

Alex was not sure what he wanted to do. So far, his mental thoughts were surrounded on him being seasick like a normal human being who needed to empty their stomach content into the salt water sea, but his body made out of virus did not considered itself to be ill, so it was all in his mind. He wanted to get rid of the stupid fear of water, but the hydrophobia was ingrained into his genes.

 

 _It's alright, Alex. You'll kiss the land soon enough_. The virus thought weakly as he looked at the ever distant port as the boat was swaying in a tiny motion. When he reached land, he kept taking deep breath to calm his mind and tried to refocus his limbs on the solid and stable ground. He was swaying side to side like a drunk in the first few steps before he found his mental center and began walking after the strong smell of disgusting alcohol and loud unrefined music.

 

He entered the _Vineyard's Inn_ in time to see Ratonhnhaké:ton, looking as stormy as he was with his seasick, approaching two men sitting on the table beside the entrance. He went and caught the boy before he reached the men, he quickly pulled him aside and whispered in quick Kanien'kehá:ka, ' _What are you doing?_ '

 

' _That man knows of Charles Lee_ ,' Connor muttered back angrily as he glared at the old man with white wig and merchant-like clothes. Alex studied them both thoughtfully as he analysed the information he had gathered and learned from both Connor and Achilles' conspiracy table and the history from the future. The man Connor pointed out was Benjamin Church who would be the first Surgeon General of the U.S. Army, serving as the "Chief Physician and Director General" of the Medical Service of the Continental Army two years from now, he was also known as the Templar's "finder and fixer". Perhaps the best and better way of describing Church was that he was, from the Harry Potter series, a Slytherin through and through, a bastard who focused on self-preservation and personal gain. A cruel surgeon with the mind of businessman, causing more harm than healing on his patients. Alex turned his dark eyes to the man next to Church, he identified the man as Nicholas Biddle, one of the future captains of the Continental Navy during the American Revolution and the one who would command the USS _Randolph_. He recalled Achilles mentioning that the junior officer had been seen with some of the Templar members. ' _He was there with Charles Lee before the village was burned and my mother died._ '

 

Alex closed his eyes and calmed his nerve, not wanting to act rashly by this new piece of information. Connor would only go and demand Church information concerning Lee, which was something he must prevent, because he would rather the Templars, most importantly Kenway, to never discover the boy's existence until he became a full-fledge Assassin. The virus kept a tight hold on the struggling boy who was more than prepared to beat Church for information. ' _Calm Ratonhnhaké:ton. I will find out where Lee is, but I need you to return to Homestead with Faulkner._ '

 

The boy looked up at him disappointedly as he hissed out, ' _They kill mother._ '

 

' _I know_ ,' Alex muttered gently and calmly as he slowly loosen his hold on the boy. ' _I will find them, child. But I need to know that you are safe from harm while I begin my search, can you do that for me?_ '

 

Ratonhnhaké:ton hesitated for a minute before he nodded in agreement and whispered, ' _Remember our promise._ '

 

' _I will_ ,' the Runner whispered back as he removed the small battered pendant from his tomahawk, he placed it in the boy's hand and closed the fingers over it. ' _Another reason for me to come back._ '

 

The boy, in turn, removed his own bear claws necklace and gave it to him. ' _A third reason to come back safely._ '

 

The virus quickly and carefully slipped the necklace on as if it was something that would crumple to dust at his touch before he led the boy to Faulkner's table with the two officers for the cannons. 'Take care of Connor for the rest of the trip, Mr. Faulkner.'

 

'What?' The quartermaster turned to face him. 'What do you mean by that lad? Where are you going?'

 

'An old friend is around and I need to speak with him,' the virus replied as he gestured with his head to Church and Briddle behind him. 'If Achilles is still arguing with Giry, tell her that she and Gabriel can take my room until I come back.'

 

'Alright, mate,' the quartermaster said after a moment. 'We still need to teach the boy about the cannons. We'll be back home before you know it.'

 

Alex nodded in thanks as the sailors took to their leave with Ratonhnhaké:ton giving one final look at him before they left the tavern for good as the virus went to order a drink on the counter as he eavesdropped on the Templar behind him.

 

'War is inevitable, Mr. Biddle,' Church said. 'Colonials are tired of the new rules enforced by the British parliament. The Stamp act. The Revenue Act. The Indemnity Act. The Commissioners of Customs Act. All these are just excuses to squeeze more taxes than the good people here can offer. On the other hand, our Order can offer you much if you join the coming revolution. You'll become a captain of your own ship.'

 

'How can you be so sure that I will have a ship of my own, let alone me being the captain?' Biddle asked interested.

 

'Our leader has many resources and ties, he will guarantee your success in becoming a Captain if you join our cause,' Church answered confidently.

 

The junior officer of the British Navy considered the offer in silence while Alex took small sip from his mug. Inwardly, the virus was tempted to just go and consumed Church for the information of Kenway's location, but Ratonhnhaké:ton deserved to be the one to kill each and every Templar who had murdered his mother. So tailing the _good doctor_ was the only option. 'Very well. Please tell your Master that I accept his offer.'

 

'I welcome you first into our Order,' the surgeon said gladly as he shook the man's hand. 'May the Father of Understanding guide us.'

 

Alex waited until both men left the tavern before he drank the rest of his drink in one shot, his free hand flicked some coins on the counter, and left to follow Church, hoping that he might be lead to Haytham's base of operation or to the man himself. The sky was painted with a dark, blood red, and orange hue as Alex quietly tailed after his target in a distance.

 

When the night had thrown its black blanket over the entire city, Alex's form shifted and tendrils surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, his form changed from that a Mohawk in Colonial clothings to that of a tanned skin sailor. Alex silently slipped onto the rooftop of the houses and continued tailing after Church until he reach the port where he spoke to a shady-looking sailor there.

 

'I need this delivered to the Grand Master,' Church said harshly to the man as he slipped a letter into the man's opened hand. 'It's important this letter reaches Virginia as soon as possible.'

 

The man nodded hurriedly as Church left for another ship. Alex quietly slipped into the deserted streets and approached the walking sailor from behind. When he was close enough, the Runner grabbed the sailor by the head and, with one abrupt twist, snapped the messenger's neck. He knelt down and patted the body, searching for the letter Church had asked to be delivered. He pulled out the object from the inner pocket of the worn out waistcoat. He broke the seal on the envelope as part of his body consumed the corpse of the sailor and began reading what news Church was going to give to his Master.

 

***

 

**Three months later...**

 

Haytham Kenway was signing off another of file from the stacks of paperwork on his desk, the short candles in his office were still burning brightly, he should be able to finish everything before they burned out. As long as nothing unexpected came up. His coat, cape and tricorn hat was hung on a wooden hanger stand, his weapons were on the belt that was hanging on his chair, easy to reach for the loaded the pistols, and his hidden blades remained on his arms.

 

He paused for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt a wave of fatigue coming over him. His housekeeper, Sofia Carter, kept telling him to rest early because of his old age, which angered him slightly, but he ignored the old lady's worry and focused on his task. Sure he was in his early fifties, but he was hardly an old man who needed to spend more time at home to rest his weary bones. The Templar's gaze removed itself from the papers before him and went to settle on the small wooden box within the glass cupboard a few steps away from where he sat. Within it, laid the finished letters of his lies and of his wishes.

 

It had been a very long while since he had sent any of them. Haytham had been regretting sending the fake letters and he did not know why he had even made up half of every letter's content to begin with. Was it the fear of Alex discovering that he had broke Ziio's heart and coming to assassinate him in his sleep? Or was it the fear of losing his friend's trust? Haytham did not had any answer, but there was an uneasy feeling in his heart that something was wrong, he felt as if he was back at the time when Holden was still alive and taking care of him while he was on his deathbed, but that was before his most loyal and trusted man committed suicide and left him with no one but himself to trust.

 

Alex had so far been trying to contact him and he had ordered his men to either pickpocket letters and replaced them or bribed the messengers with money. It had already been two years since the Boston Massacre incident, he still couldn't shake the feeling that the voice that had called out to him that night was Zeus' and almost three years since the Native had tried to contact him. He had also received news that the Mohawk had abandoned his job and had sold all of his possessions to his men. Since then, no one was able to find him, as if he had just disappeared from the face of the earth. So the chance that it was Alex calling after him that night was high, but the British Army had mistaken him for being the accomplice of the scapegoat Native boy and a bounty was still on the man's head amongst the army. Thankfully, Pitcairn was one of the superiors in the army and was ordered to bring Zeus alive to one of their bases, so even if by chance someone caught him, the Templars would intercept before anyone else decided to execute the bounty hunter.

 

Haytham was snapped out of his thoughts by the sharp pain from under his ribcage before lightning flashed outside of his window. The Grand Master's hand went to cover his torso as he breathed in and out slowly as he had done many times when the old wound began acting up. This old injury always throbbed with pain whenever it was raining or was about to rain. His controlled breathing slowly eased the pain until it was nothing but a persistent dull pain. He was about to continue with his paperwork when, suddenly, a strong wind entered the office and blew half of stacks off of the table, scattering the papers around the room, causing the candles to extinguish and plunge the whole office into darkness.

 

The Grand Master's first reaction was extending one of his hidden blades while the other grasped the pistol. His vision was quickly switched to that of his second sense, turning the world into of glowing blue and black. His enhanced eyesight landed on the golden hue of a figure knelt on the opened window sill. Lightning flashed and blinded his vision with bright white for a second.

 

'Hello Haytham,' the intruder spoke in a calming and familiar voice. One he hadn't heard for almost sixteen years.

 

'Alex?' Haytham whispered.


	10. 09 - Questions

Questions

Haytham continued to stare at the shadowed form of his friend as his eyesight reverted back to that a normal human ones and he remained nailed to the floor by his friend's sudden appearance. His mind was running scenarios of what might happen, but all those thoughts were emptied as the British asked quietly, 'How have you been?'

It was small and strange thing for him to say, but said it he had nonetheless.

'How have I been?' Alex repeated dully, hopping into his house and room casually. Haytham felt the hair on his neck rise and a cold feeling of dread washed over his back. His instinct kept whispering to him to run away, to escape from this threat, but he ignored it as he unconsciously took a step back and wondered when had his Native friend ever spoke so void of feelings before.

The floorboard creaked at each step the Mohawk took as he walked towards the closed door of the room, leaning against it casually and staring at him with a look of indifference. 'How have I been?'

Haytham's hand tightened on the pistol as lightning flashed again outside, lighting the room for a moment and allowing him to see for a fleeting moment his friend. He looked the same as the day he had left, young and full of life, as if Father Time hadn't touched him as he did to him. The Grand Master's body was different from his younger self, he was not as strong and skilled as he was back then, he was weaker and his senses had dulled. Alex looked as though he had just left yesterday, not sixteen years ago. Unlike back then, he was wearing a simple white shirt with dark brown coat over it, brown breeches and riding boots. A black tricorn hat covered part of his face. The Native wore simple necklace with three claws of a predator animal in the forest, a sign of his roots and origins.

Another flash of lightning and an eerie laugh broke out from the man. The laugh, to Haytham, was claws on a chalkboard. Another flash, his friend disappeared from the door. Another, he found him pinned against the wall with a tanned hand wrapped around his neck and the back of his head pulsed in pain.

'Don't you dare talk to me as if nothing has happened,' Alex whispered harshly close to his ear, but the old Templar was more busy trying loosen the tight hold on his throat. 'Everything you've done to my family, to Ziio, ends here with you.'

'What... are you... talking... about?' Haytham gasped out, not understanding what Zeus meant and more importantly, he did not understand what he had done that made Alex so hostile towards him.

The merciless grip on his neck pulled him forward slightly before he was slammed against the wall with more force than before as Alex spat, 'Don't act all innocent, Kenway. Or do I need to remind you what had happened twelve years ago in Kanatahséton, my village?'

'I was...wasn't even... there... twelve years ago...' Haytham breathed out as everything in his vision swam a bit. 'I was... at France and... then England. Afterwards... I have remained here...'

'Lies,' Zeus hissed out angrily and the grip tightened. 'Do you know what I find when I came back here two years ago?'

The Grand Master focused his eyes on his friend, not even comprehending half of what the man had said so far. The dark eyes of Alex grew colder, the British swore the eyes shone like the light shade of blue from an ice in a cold winter, as his friend whispered venomously, 'I find Ziio's ashes. SHE IS DEAD FOR TWELVE YEARS!'

To Haytham, this was no different from getting punched and kicked several times. To him, what Alex said were lies, but seeing the anger and the hatred burning in the depth of the Mohawk's eyes, he knew deep within that it was no lies. His lover, his dearest Ziio was dead and he was seen as the one to have murdered her. Alex was here for revenge. 'TWELVE YEARS!'

SLAM!

'FOR TWELVE YEARS I THOUGHT BOTH YOU AND HER WERE HAVING A PEACEFUL AND HAPPY LIFE!'

SLAM!

'TWELVE YEARS WORTH OF LIES IN YOUR LETTERS, YOU BASTARD!'

SLAM!

While Haytham felt the back of his head was being coated in blood, the pain in his heart was graver by far. He had always thought that she was safe with her people; that she would be protected and safe within the walls of her village. When he left her, when _she_ had sent him away, he believed that she would be fine. He was wrong...

He was wrong just as he had for believing in Reginald's words, the previous Grand Master's promise of Lucio and his mother's safety, and not trying harder to escape with Holden at Qasr al-Azm. His mistakes had led to countless people hurt and dead. Even now, as he was being beaten by Ziio's friend, he could not believe in his lover being dead for so long, while he, day and night, wished to be beside her and rekindle their broken relationship.

Finally, the slamming had ceased and all he could hear in the dark room were that of lightning, rain and his rapid breathing. He felt the hand shaking in strain on his throat before it lessened its hold and, ever slowly, removed itself from his bruised neck. Haytham coughed as his hand went to gently hold his injured throat as he slid down to the floor while Alex took a few steps away from him.

'I won't kill you,' Alex whispered quietly. Haytham carefully stood up, leaning on the wall for support, and his hand never left the handprint on his neck as he stare at the Native questioningly. 'I would love to tear your face off and wear it myself, but you are still Ziio's lover.'

He pointed at him accusingly as he took a few more steps back and warned him threateningly, 'Consider this as your ONLY warning. From this day forward, I will not rest until I see you and everything you and your PRECIOUS Templar Order have accomplished lay in ruins, just as you and your men have burned my village to the ground. EVERYTHING! You! Charles Lee! Benjamin Church! Thomas Hickey! John Pitcairn! William Johnson! And if I see your face anywhere near the people I care or our home, you will end up like this.'

The Mohawk threw something in the air and, faster than his eyes could see, slammed his axe over the object in midair, cutting it cleanly in half. Haytham looked down to see the Templar ring he had given Alex in 1755 lay in two pieces on the floor.

'I stay my hand today because of Ziio,' Alex whispered seething. 'Afterwards, no debt, honour or men will save you from my wrath.'

'No, wait!' Haytham shouted desperately, despite the pain it did to his throat, as Alex jumped out of the opened window and left. He looked out at the dark raining field and forest. 'I DIDN'T KILL HER! I WOULD NEVER HARM ZIIO! I WOULD NEVER MURDER THE WOMAN I LOVE ALEX! SHE MEANS THE WORLD TO ME! I NEVER SENT ANYONE TO BURN YOUR VILLAGE! I DID NOT KILL ANYONE FROM YOUR VILLAGE! I DIDN'T DO IT ALEX! ALEX! ALEX!'

His words probably fell on deaf ears as he dropped to his knees in front of the window and kept calling Alex's name, hoping that the man would allow him to explain and listen to the truth. Not knowing that his running Native friend heard every word he had shouted.

***

**Two weeks later...**

**Around noon...**

Alex slowly walked towards Homestead Manor, ignoring everyone he met on the way back. In his mind, he was still pondering about Haytham's words, wondering and questioning whether or not the Grand Master Templar was actually innocent and had no knowledge of the incident that had killed Ziio. The man was genuinely confused and heartbroken when he told him of Ziio's death, but Ratonhnhaké:ton was certain that everyone on the conspiracy table, except Haytham and Biddle, was there the day that the village was burned and Ziio killed. Maybe...

If Haytham had truly remained in Virginia when the incident happened, then it was his men who had destroyed the boy's home behind his back. Alex paused the front door and went to hold his head in one hand, trying to shake the thought out of his mind. There was no proof that the old Templar was at Europe or at his house the time, so he could be lying about his whereabouts. _Yes, those are lies, nothing more._

' _Elder!_ ' someone called out from above.

Alex looked up to see Ratonhnhaké:ton from the window on the second floor, all happy and safe. The Runner raised his hand and waved back at the smiling boy, who looked as though he was readied to jump out of the window to meet him.

Though an annoyed shout from Madam Giry had erased all thought of using the window as an exit. 'CONNOR! THE WINDOW IS FOR AIR TO COME IN, NOT FOR YOU TO JUMP OUT! USE THE DOOR! I DON'T CARE IF IT'S SOMEONE ELSE'S HOUSE, BUT WHILE I AM LIVING HERE AND THE ONE CLEANING THIS HOUSE, I DO NOT TOLERATE ANYONE USING OTHER THAN THE DOORS TO LEAVE THE HOUSE!'

The Native boy frowned at the warning as he grumpily went to the ground floor to use the door as instructed, but another raised male voice sounded in the house. 'I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE WINDOW WOMAN, BUT THIS HOUSE IT'S MINE AND I AM THE OWNER, AND I DO NOT ACCEPT YOU TREATING THIS HOUSE LIKE A PLAYTHING OR TREATING CONNOR AS A CHILD!'

'PLAYTHING? I AM CLEANING THE HOUSE! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY ROOM IS COVERED IN DUST AND COBWEB? YOU ARE LIMPING, BUT YOUR HANDS ARE NOT BROKEN, SO CLEAN YOUR ROOM, DAVENPORT! ALSO, CONNOR IS A _CHILD_ AND WE NEED TO TEACH HIM WHAT IS RIGHT AND WHAT IS WRONG TO DO IN FRONT OF PEOPLE OR THEY WILL TREAT HIM LIKE AN IGNORANT SAVAGE!'

'YOU ARE AS ANNOYING AS CONNOR WAS WHEN HE FIRST CAME HERE! WOMAN!' Achilles shouted.

'YOU ARE AS STUBBORN AS A BOAR! DAVENPORT!' Giry yelled.

Alex blinked in surprise by the heated argument between Achilles and Giry. He had never heard the old Assassin raised his voice before even when he was teaching Ratonhnhaké:ton, he usually just sighed, shook his head and left when they did not listen to him. Giry treated everyone like her children and spoke to them all motherly-like, she never shouted at people and she always kept her smiling pokerface on when she was mad.

' _What in the world is going on in there?_ ' the virus asked when Connor got out of the house.

' _Ah well, you see..._ ' Ratonhnhaké:ton started with a small blush on his cheek as he rubbed the back of his head. ' _When I came back with Mr. Faulkner, I returned to find Madame Giry arguing with Achilles. Apparently, she was displeased with Achilles' inaction in restoring the manor, something about the weed and dust. Since then, they have been arguing in many things and recently, it concerns me about my trainings and teachings. She even puts more food on plate at dinner, saying that I will need it for my training, but Achilles believes that she will spoil me and often switches my dish with another that is less filling._ '

Alex nodded his head in understanding as he took a seat on the small stairways and he explained, ' _Ratonhnhaké:ton, let tell you something that Giry had once told me, a long time ago._ ' The boy went to seat next to him, looking at him expectantly. ' _She was once an old woman who had lost everything and was forced to live on the street and suffer passersby's ire, but she never once gave up hope that things would change for the better. Giry took food and clothings that people did not want and share them with the other homeless beggars, prostitutes and orphans. She acted like a mother to them and tried to make them feel at home by cleaning and teaching them when she could. Out of sheer luck, someone helped her and with the money she had received, she used it to change the life of the poor. Because of the kindness of one man, she saw that unless one do something to help others, no one else will do anything, so seeing Achilles not doing anything to help restore his land has angered her quite a bit. And Giry loves children, she probably can't accept that the fact that you aren't spoiled in anything._ '

' _Then it's no wonder why she has been so angry_ ,' the young Assassin said as he turned to look at the closed door where the shouting match could still be heard.

Alex looked around the house before he asked, ' _Where is Gabriel?_ '

' _He has quickly escaped when they started arguing_ ,' Connor answered nonchalantly. ' _He is constantly leaving for Boston, saying that it is safer there than here, but I think that running away is what a coward does._ '

' _Believe me, Ratonhnhaké:ton, when I say that what Gabriel did is a wise choice_ ,' Alex said, defending his thief of a friend and knowing that the master thief was probably trying to recruit the local thieves in Boston. ' _You have yet to see what Giry is capable of when she is angry._ '

The Runner shuddered at the thought of facing the wall with children laughing at him from behind, though the nightmarish thought was dispelled when the boy asked, ' _Have you found Lee?_ '

' _No, I did not find him_ ,' Alex replied, shaking his head negatively. ' _He isn't in America, but..._ '

Alex was not certain _how_ to tell Ratonhnhaké:ton of Kenway, he was not even sure if he should say anything about the Grand Master Templar. Should he tell Ziio's child of his father? He had no idea, because a part of him feared what recklessness Connor might commit to reach the Templar and the boy's own safety. So far, he was certain that the Templar Order was oblivious of the existence of an Assassin in training and with the way he had worded his threat, Kenway would possibly mistake him as the Assassin threat when they began _housecleaning_ , so Ratonhnhaké:ton would be safe and his identity hidden. Still the problem and question right now was, should he give the boy the news or not? _Ziio... what would you want me to do? Would you want me to tell your child of Haytham? Or is it better to keep the boy in the dark?_

The answer came up with one of his own memories, one which showed him following Ziio who was chasing after a man who had provided her with false information and she was going to make him pay for his lies. Alex sighed dejectedly as he finished his sentence, ' _I have found your father instead._ '

Suddenly Achilles and Giry's argument became the only sounds between him and Ratonhnhaké:ton, Alex tilted his head downward and adjusted his tricorn hat to allow the shadow to cover his eyes entirely.

' _I..._ ' Connor started hesitantly. ' _I am uncertain... if it is a good thing to hear it now._ '

Alex looked at the boy whose eyes were clouded in doubts and wandered around his surroundings, he opened and closed his mouth for a minute before he righted himself and said, ' _He... is old, older than I have thought... than the last time I has seen him._ '

Connor scoffed as he looked at him with a wary smile and said, ' _Elder, I think you should not be surprised, you are as old as he is._ ' The smile turned sad. ' _While you look like you are only a few years older than me, your eyes are old... They show great sadness and have witnessed many unpleasant experiences._ '

_You don't know how true you are in your words Connor._ Alex thought bitterly, remembering that his _creator_ , Dr. Alexander Mercer, had caused the entire Penn Station to be infected by Blacklight. Manhattan, infected with Blacklight, later got hit by another outbreak, an outbreak of Redlight caused by Elizabeth Greene after he had released her. Half of disasters were caused by him, part of him enjoyed the chaos he created and the rest was more out of necessity than pleasure.

' _I have threatened him_ ,' Alex continued. ' _I have warned him that if he ever comes close to anyone I consider as friend or I care about, he will face Death itself. I want to kill him. I really want to end his life, but I couldn't._ '

Connor looked at him fearfully when he heard his desire to murder his father, but his gaze softened when he heard his reluctant tone and asked, ' _Why?_ '

Alex stared at the boy's chocolate eyes and, for a fleeting moment, he was able to see Ziio again in the boy, he answered softly, ' _Because he is your father and your mother's lover. Back then, when I had become an Assassin, I had sworn that I will not kill Kenway for Ziio's happiness. Now, I guess you can say that I did not kill him because of you. He is still your father by blood and he is your only family left, I have no right in deciding his fate. I know the feeling of losing your family too well, Ratonhnhaké:ton._ '

His thoughts wandered back to Dana, who was in the future under the care of Dr. Ragland and remained in coma. He remembered all too well how he had almost lost his sister, the fear of her death because of a mistake he had made when one of the Hunters came and snatched her in their hideout, and the small relief he felt in seeing his little sister's chest rising and falling when he had found her in Greene's nest. Then his memory brought him to Ziio who, for a few short years, was both a friend and a sister to him, he knew her through the only consumed Native, but he learned to get to know someone because of her and her people.

' _I have you._ ' The words brought Alex out of his mind as he focused on the boy sitting across him who was smiling at him innocently. ' _I still have you as a family._ '

Alex scoffed lightly at the innocent look as he rubbed the boy's hair affectionately and said humorously, ' _Never grow up, Ratonhnhaké:ton._ '

' _Huh? But I will grow up elder_ ,' Connor said, confused by the older man's words, and wore a perplexed look.

The Blacklight virus chuckled lightly as he explained, ' _What I mean is never change, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Just stay as you are. Naïve, determined, honourable, and courageous, though I don't mind if you lose that recklessness you have inherited from your mother._ '

The boy's interest piqued up at the mention of his mother, which saddened Alex slightly at the thought that Ziio was rarely spoke by her people, but then again, they would not want to reopen old wounds when they had only recently recovered what they had lost during the attack. Ratonhnhaké:ton then asked, ' _Is mother really a reckless person?_ '

' _Well, I call it reckless while the clan mother prefers to say she was impatient_ ,' Alex replied with a small smile. ' _Back then, Ziio was supposed to become the next clan mother of our tribe, but she sees the coming men from Europe to be a threat to her people and often argues with Oiá:ner about the clan's neutral reaction towards the coming invasion. So the clan mother deemed her to be an unsuitable heir and your mother was freed to go on the path she wanted, but Oiá:ner still worried about her, so she hoped that arranging both of our marriage would perhaps settled her down slightly._ ' The Native in Alex's mind sighed dreamily as he recalled Connor's mother. ' _Your mother escaped and refused to find the sponsors for our marriage. In the end, Ziio still chose her own path and refused to let anyone else decided for her. While I had to look after her and help her to escape whatever trouble she seemed to attract with a passion._ '

_And your mother still accepted me even though she knew that I am simply a creature who had taken the face of her fiancé._ Alex added mentally while he smiled as he looked up at the blue sky from above.

' _I didn't..._ ' The Runner turned his attention back to the boy whose expression was unknown to him. ' _I really didn't know that I resemble mother that much. My memories of her are often that of her stern gaze as she taught me to hunt and climb trees. I couldn't remember anything else and now that we talk of her I seem to know very little about mother. The last thing I remember of her was that morning before the village was burned to the ground. I was reading_ my _father's journal when she came in and looked ready to scold me for one entire day before my friend, Kanen'tó:kon, invite me to play with others._ '

The young Assassin laughed for a short moment before his memory brought him to a darker path. ' _We were just playing hide and seek. That's all we were doing and we never went beyond the border. Charles Lee and his fellow Templars came... Everything just went bad and mother died..._ '

Alex stared at the sad expression for a few seconds before he closed his eyes, remembering the day his life and that of his sister went to hell before they were saved, he knew very well that those were Dr. Mercer's experience not his, but the situation was similar in some way, except on the mother part.

***

'Don't worry, kid.' A disgruntled woman said hurriedly as she started stuffing some clothes to a small backpack. 'Everything is alright. The three of us are going to another small vacation.'

The teenager around the age of 15, the young Dr. Mercer, she was talking to knew that she was lying as he corrected her mentally. _We are running away to somewhere I_ should _be incapable to pronounce to hide from the police or some other unsavoury characters._

They had been running from one debt or law to another, trying to outrun the thugs and law enforcers. Mercer ignored the woman as he moved his short body to go pick up Dana's favourite books, his science books and some of his test results. If he and her sister could get a better life will depend on these results, Mercer had already planned to be a scientist or virologist. His aptitude to science could provide a window to leave this miserable life behind and the job's payment was high.

He was putting everything in his mental list into another backpack when he heard his sister screaming. Mercer ran to the living room, with the half-opened bag, to his sister lying on the floor in a fetus position as she cried her eyes out as the drunk for a mother was yelling at her to stop crying. The young doctor went to his sister's side and held her close as he studied the woman's furious gaze at them as she shouted more at them, but the action only made Dana cried louder and making him more angry.

'Can you stop yelling?' Mercer asked with a blank face.

'I'M YOUR MOTHER!' the woman shouted. 'BOTH OF YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO ME!'

Mercer immediately turned and let his back take the strike as his sister continued crying as he covered as best as he could from the hits raining down on him. He bit his lips to prevent himself from crying while his sister continued to cry, louder from each hit he took. Suddenly, something broke a nearby window and he heard the woman cried in fear. All too soon, the small house they were living in grew hot and was ignited in flames. The young teenager's eyes widened in fear as he started pulling his crying sister away from the fire as he grabbed the bag with their stuff and had already began heading towards the backdoor, easily abandoning the trapped woman and outright ignoring the cries for help.

The young man got out of the house and pulled both him and his sister out of the backyard, quickly taking a turn to get away from the burning house and escaped to the other side of the street. Mercer turned, panting heavily, and watched at the flames licked every inch of the house. The woman was gone and they could go back to foster care, where it was much safer for his sister and him. Both brother and sister held each other tightly as the authorities came and took care of them.

Dana was sniffing and rubbing her red eyes, Mercer was running his hand gently over the little girl's back, but a faint smile was on the corner of his lips as he continued to observe the firemen running around the blackened and ruined house. They were free and in a few years, he would be able to find a job that could pay for their living arrangements.

***

A loud bang from the door snapped the virus out of his memory dive as both he and Connor immediately jumped up, instinct that a fight was coming their way, just to see a disgruntled Giry walked out of the house. The old lady's angry face turned into a strained gentle smile as she spread her arms welcomingly and greeted Alex, 'You're back, Iskandar.'

'Yes,' Alex said hesitantly as he hugged the old woman. 'It's good to be home.'

'Yes... Home...' Giry said, her tone sounded like an angry hissing cat, with the tensed smile on and looked readied to tear the closest thing to her to pieces. The current closest thing was him. 'I would have PREFERED a house with inhabitants who can clean after themselves.'

'I keep things clean,' Alex quickly said in defence. _I clean after myself... Mostly... When I am not focus in work._ The virus added as an afterthought as a tiny voice in the far back of his mind asked when he had actually cleaned after himself as images of the gory messes he had left behind in New York.

'Hmm, there's some dust on the top shelves and behind the desk and closet, but otherwise, I do not find it too dirty,' Giry announced with an approving nod, making Alex felt he was back in Grade school and waiting for the teacher to announce the test result. 'I need to go get some soap from Catherine, go in and get some rest Iskandar.'

'Connor!' Achilles called out from the door, holding his walking stick as tightly as his tensed features were as he outright ignored Giry's existence as the madame threw one last glare at him before she took her leave. 'Welcome back Iskandar, I hope you have found some other news about our enemy.'

'I did not gather any information, Achilles,' the virus replied curtly. 'I had simply challenged the Grand Master Templar and his Order.'

'YOU WHAT?' Achilles shouted with a look of hatred and disbelief directed at him. 'YOU ANNOUNCED YOUR IDENTITY AS AN ASSASSIN?'

'No, I have simply said that I will destroy him, his allies, every success and progresses the Order had completed into nothing but dust,' Alex answered coolly, not liking the fact that Achilles talked like he was an idiot, because his IQ was above one thousand with the amount of people he had consumed and it could reach to an astronomical level. 'And before you ask, no, I hadn't mentioned anything about Connor or your little existence, Davenport. Kenway will see my words a personal vendetta or he will think I am going to find some of the Assassins to get their help. Either way, he won't search Homestead for me. To him, according to you, you are nothing but an old relic that is slowly wasting away in its hole.'

Achilles looked readied to tear him to pieces and smashed said pieces into nothingness, but Alex was not that easily intimidated. Besides, after surviving a nuclear explosion, he doubted an angry, bitter, and old assassin's hits would do any lasting damage.

The old Mentor looked as though he had swallowed something big and unpleasant, probably his broken pride. He turned to Ratonhnhaké:ton and said, 'Follow me Connor.' He sent an evil eye towards the Runner. 'You too.'

The young man's eyes darted between the two Master Assassins before he went to follow Achilles into the house, Alex sighed tiredly before he went after them, unconsciously his hands went for pockets that weren't there and head tilted downward to hide his face. He reached the back of the house and was about to go down to the secret basement with the two official Assassins when the hidden door slammed shut at face.

Alex raised an eyebrow in slight disbelief at the older man's childish display as he muttered boringly, 'Very mature Davenport, very mature.'

Alex went to lean against the wall, next to the small candelabra that served as the opening mechanism for the hidden door, and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the two of them to finish what they had to do in the basement. While waiting for the Assassins, the virus' mind was directed back to the most recent memory of Kenway, one he had been analysing like a doctor forced to diagnose if the patient had Alzheimer's disease or N.P.H., Normal pressure hydrocephalus, by looking at the person. Alex closed his eyes as he let the memory repeated itself through his senses.

The loud and near deafening sounds of lightning rang in his ears, small flash of bright white light swallowed his sight, the heavy touch of raindrops over his body, the faint taste of cool water running over his lips, and the air of moist earth and trees he breathed in. He remembered the desperate sounds coming from the house as he ran into the cover of the dark forest. Kenway denied everything, Ziio's death and the eradication of Kanatahséton. While a part of him was adamantly certain that everything the Templar said was lies, just like the ones in those fake letters, the more rational and calculating part was wondering why Kenway continued telling him lies when the truth was already revealed. The more he thought of it the more uncertain he became and the Templar's voice that was pleading his innocence grew louder in his mind.

' _Elder?_ ' A soft voice called out, dragging Alex out of his memory dive. His five senses were wrenched back to reality and his mind settled itself back to record what was happening in his surroundings.

Alex turned to face the young Ratonhnhaké:ton, the reassuring words prepared, but they got stuck in his throat when he saw the Assassin in-training. Inwardly, Alex thought that it was about time that the old man let the boy wore the Assassin robes. Hell, even the apprentices back in London had their own rank uniform. Though there was one thing that was bothering him as he cocked his head to the side, studying Connor from head to toe and side to side, before he remarked, ' _Giry is right, you really need to eat more._ '

The Runner was quite serious with his comment, because from his point of view, Ratonhnhaké:ton looked like a child trying his father's clothes, the robes were too broad for the boy's current figure and height. Some more good foods and tough trainings should do the trick.

' _I guess so_ ,' Connor muttered with a wry smile as he shook the baggy sleeves, showing how much space there was to fill in them, but the smile had never left his lips. ' _Still, it's good to be finally seen as an Assassin._ '

' _While it is great that you have receive your robes. I think there is a small ceremony to complete_ ,' Alex said as the Assassins in his mind was pulling images of their initiation and texts that described the process throughout history, from removing one's ring finger to branding it.

' _Achilles believes that it isn't necessary_ ,' Ratonhnhaké:ton pointed out, causing the souls of the entire London Brotherhood to roar indignantly at the blatant disregard of the ritual.

' _I'll make it short. At least you don't need to remove your ring finger or brand it_ ,' Alex commented lightly, missing the sudden pale shade on the boy's face. ' _But there is one part that is important and must be done._ '

The Runner turned to face the young man and cleared his throat as the Brotherhood in his mind took position as if they were actually in Connor's initiation ceremony, while the mute Master Assassin in his mind provided the words. Alex recited carefully and clearly, ' _La shay' haqiqah, koulo shay' moumkin_. _These were the words spoken by our ancestors and lay at the heart of our creed._ '

The young Assassin stood straighter as Alex continued, ' _Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember..._ '

' _Nothing is true_ ,' Connor finished.

' _Where other men are limited, by morality or law, remember..._ ' Alex chanted along with the Assassins in his mind.

' _Everything is permitted_ ,' Ratonhnhaké:ton intoned.

' _We work in the dark, to serve the light. We are Assassins_ ,' the Runner ended.

' _Nothing is true, everything is permitted_ ,' Connor repeated the creed once more.

' _Usually, the new recruit is supposed to perform a Leap of Faith to complete the rite, but in this case, I think it is enough_ ,' Alex said, knowing very well that the house wasn't safe enough yet to allow two men to walk on the rooftop. He went to pat the boy's back and gestured to the door. ' _Never mind that. Let's begin your training towards the position of Master Assassin._ '

Alex grinned slightly as he tugged the boy by the arm with one hand, they quickly got out of the house and just in time, because Giry was just around the corner with some soaps and a bucket of water. Both of them made a quick escape from the mansion. There was no way they would spend time in it while the old man and old lady was in the same room and at same time.

As they were half way down the road to the tiny port where the _Aquila_ and its crew lived, Alex was stopped in his track by Ratonhnhaké:ton's somewhat gentle voice as the boy asked, words careful and hesitant, ' _Who am I, in your eyes, elder?_ '

The Runner turned around to stare at the Ratonhnhaké:ton, confused by the boy's simple yet complexed question. The Blacklight virus asked, ' _What do you mean?_ '

The young Assassin looked at his feet with a frown, one Alex knew fairly well, that meant the child had a lot of stuff running in his mind and he had difficulties in expressing them in the right way just like when the Native was leading him to Homestead. The young man steeled himself as he repeated his question, ' _Who am I to you, elder. Am I your friend's son? An Assassin in-training? A naïve child from_ _Kanatahséton?_ '

Who am I? WHAT am I? WHO am I to you?

Alex's eyes darkened as he remembered that night, when those questions had invaded his mind as he stumbled out of the morgue in Gentek and into the front parking lot.

_Who am I?_ The voice of the two examiners were ringing in his head, saying that his name is Alexander J. Mercer, next of kin Dana A. Mercer, and something about Blacklight. They said something about a blade and torso, he woke up when he heard that. He had trouble breathing as he got out of the morgue.

_What am I?_ Alex saw people gunned down the two examiners, he gasped and they heard him, he tried to run, they shot him down, but he didn't stay down. His body recovered from the fatal shots, he ran and threw cars at his pursuers, a feat that should be impossible for any normal human to do. Alex approached a dead-end alley, he was tired, he needed help. In that alley, he had his first two consumption of human beings, memories flooded in his empty mind and the first prisoners had arrived.

_Who am I to you?_ Alex learned of him having a sister who the Blackwatch was after right at this instance. He quickly went to the apartment where Dana lived, she saw him killed the soldier who held her hostage. Dana was stressed and scared, but she did not question much when he told her that he couldn't remember anything. His little sister just helped him, even though she didn't know what had happened to him or what sort of monster he got turned into. Dana showed him that he was just her big brother, the brother who would read to her whenever she wanted.

Perhaps it was the same for Ratonhnhaké:ton, he left his village under the instructions of a SPIRIT, something Alex was still very skeptical of, and the only person who was on the same boat as he was was him. Maybe he was looking for some form of assurance from him, his mother's friend and a man from his village, telling him that everything was alright or that he had made the right decision. He rubbed the back of his neck as he let out a heavy sigh before he decided to bite the bullet.

' _You are just Ratonhnhaké:ton_ ,' Alex answered as he shove the voice of the million souls in him back into their mental cell. ' _You are the son of Kaniehtí:io and Haytham Kenway. You are a Kanien'kehá:ka. You are a Novice Assassin. You are a either naïve or reckless boy who I have to look after and worry day and night for. You are all of these,_ _Ratonhnhaké:ton, they are your identity. You might think that this has nothing to do with me or you are not your mother, so I don't need to watch your back, but I am and I will, not just because you are Ziio's son._ ' The virus sighed heavily as he looked down at the ground. ' _You remind me of myself, of something I have done, something I am not really proud of. I have once hunted every single man who have caused a great disaster that had nearly destroyed an entire city, but when I have eliminated all of them, I have discovered the truth of who was actually behind the incident. It was someone who was close to me, someone who I have never even suspected._ '

' _Now I am seeing you, chasing after the Templars who have ruined your life, full of anger and confused, just like I was when I have hunted those men down. I don't want you to become me_ ,' Alex explained as he gestured to himself with a small wave. ' _Someone whose life that is just covered in blood and tragedy. I don't want you to charge into the life of an Assassin, because you think and believe it was the only way to protect the village and everyone in it. I have seen enough in one life, I don't want you to live through your life like mine. Later, when you have finally accomplish your task, all the Templars in America are dead, you will question yourself if you have done the right thing and if it is truly the only path you can choose from._ '

Alex breathed out loudly as he calmed himself and wondered, ' _Do you understand what I am saying?_ '

Ratonhnhaké:ton's hand unconsciously went under his chin as his thumb and index finger went to rub his chin thoughtfully as the boy wore a thoughtful expression. After a seemingly long pause, the young Kanien'kehá:ka answered, ' _I understand what you are telling me, elder. This is my choice, I know you don't want me to get into this life, but I want to put an end to this eternal war and to this threat my people are facing. I am willing to live with blood on my hands, I might regret it, but if everyone else lives a peaceful life, I can accept the consequences._ '

Alex wanted to pull his hair out as he thought desperately. _DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? WHEN THE REVOLUTION ENDS, THE ENTIRE AMERICA WILL GO AGAINST YOUR PEOPLE, DRIVING THEM OUT OF THEIR LAND, AND REFUSE TO GIVE THEM ANY RIGHTS, THEY ARE TREATED LIKE ANIMALS MORE THAN HUMANS! YOU JOIN THE BROTHERHOOD DOESN'T STOP THAT FROM HAPPENING!_

He must had looked exasperated, because Ratonhnhaké:ton only had this determined and serious gaze in his eyes. Alex went to rub his face with one hand as he groaned, ' _That conviction of yours will get you killed, Ratonhnhaké:ton._ '

The boy's lips that were thin with solemness stretched into one of promised mischief as he asked, ' _Hmm. So I am no longer a reckless child, Raké:ni?_ '

Alex snorted as he answered with a tinge of annoyance, ' _The day you won't be reckless is probably the day when my pitch black hair turns as white as freshly fallen snow._ ' The virus turned and took a few steps forward before his mind finally registered the last word Connor had said. He wiped around faster than normal human eyes could see, an once-in-a-lifetime worth of shock pasted over his face. ' _You didn't just call me, Raké:ni, did you?_ '

Ratonhnhaké:ton, as if suddenly realizing what he had just uttered, blushed and stuttered nonsenses like it would cover up the fact he had actually spoke the little innocent word. A heavy silence soon fell in-between them, Alex was too speechless to sound a syllable and Connor was embarrassed by his slip.

The younger Kanien'kehá:ka was playing with his hands, rubbing them and squeezing them as if he had a stress ball under his fingers. Alex wondered if this habit of the boy came from some extent of his childhood trauma, because the boy rarely touched his head or neck and when someone did, he would act like a wounded animal. The young Assassin took a deep breath before he asked, in a hushed whisper, ' _Do you mind me calling you Raké:ni?_ '

The Runner coughed slightly as he answered, ' _It's not that I care about what you call me, it's just..._ '

_What can I say? That you have a father who is still alive and well, and you can't just call me dad, because I am not the best father material and I am far worse than Kenway in terms of being a father._ Alex thought in distress before a frown marred his face as a memory he had shoved into the never-to-be-seen-again section slammed into him. Blurry image of hospital light and the wailing sound of a baby. A bloodied hand –a girl's hand– reached up, wanting to hold the baby boy who laid in a stranger's arms and was crying his eyes out. The Blacklight virus growled lowly as he shoved the memory back into the darkest and secluded part of his mind to clear his focus on reality. Greene's memories were the ones he wished he could destroy and forget, because the Redlight's host had only experiences of tortures and experiments on her by Gentek, and the only memory that could be called a happy one was the image of her newborn child, full of life and healthy despite the decaying state of her hometown in Ohio, Hope.

The Runner shook his head lightly, clearing the remnants of the Pariah's small body and the mother instinct flaring within Greene, before he truthfully explained, ' _Look,_ _Ratonhnhaké:ton, I have no experience of whatsoever in taking care of someone and I doubt I'll ever be the good father._ _So, I don't deserve to be called father. I am the lone wolf, I take care myself and ignore whoever dies around me! I am just a bloody monster that doesn't care of the innocents or guilty, I kill them if it benefits me!_ '

Maybe he went a little too far with his last comment, but it was partly the truth. He did killed innocent bystanders on the streets either by accident or they were at the wrong place and wrong time, and he did brutally murdered those who had anything to do with what happened to him and at Penn Station. Alex breathed heavily as he took a few steps away from the boy, he needed to clear his head before he actually went berserk because of Greene's emotions flooding in his mind. A pregnant pause was all there was between them and Alex was thankful that Homestead was still a small village, so there weren't a lot of people coming and going around the small road to the port where the ship was stationed.

' _No_ ,' Ratonhnhaké:ton said confidently, a tone the virus had never heard from the young Assassin before. ' _No, I do not believe you are just as you said. You are there to help me when others just think it is something I want and leave me on my own, you try to persuade me than just tell me to give up or my choice is a mistake because you are worried about me, you are more willing to teach me than Achilles is and you haven't treated me like I am an ignorant child who should be kept away from certain truth. I don't see why you do not believe that you deserve to be called Raké:ni when you have done what any great father out there would do for their child._ '

Alex was not sure if he was supposed to consider Connor's speech as compliments or as insults, the boy would never insult him, but he could be quite direct and blunt with his words and towards others. Still, it was strange for him to hear that someone saw him as a father, though he found it very doubtful that he could accept someone calling him dad, no scratch that, he WOULD never be able to accept it.

' _If it's you, I don't mind being called Raké:ni_ ,' Alex muttered with a dejected sigh, eyes widening slightly as he gave himself multiple mental punches on the head and berated himself in his mind. _What the hell did you just say Alexander J. Mercer?_

' _I am glad that you do not mind_ ,' the Assassin said with relief as if a huge burden was lifted from his shoulders by the simple acceptance. ' _And thank you... for everything._ '

The Prototype regarded the child with a wondering look before he stared back at the small dirt road and whispered softly with a faint smile, ' _You're welcome I guess._ '


End file.
